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DANIEL  DERONDA. 


Jpp»l»nJ 


r^RAND-COURT     AND       GWENDOLEN    IN 
THE   PA  RK.      Photogravure.     From   drawing 
by  Charles  Co^eland. 


The  Complete  Works 

of 

George  Eliot 

DANIEL   DERONDA 

VOLUME    1 

ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK   AND    LONDON 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS 

PUBLISHERS 


C^.^) 


TO  MY   DEAR  HUSBAND 

GEORGE  HENRY   LEWES. 


*'  Wishing  me  like  to  one  more  rich  in  hope, 

Desiring  this  man^s  art  and  that  mun^s  scope. 
With  what  I  most  enjoy  contented  hast; 
Yet  in  these  thoughts  myself  almost  despising, 
Haply  I  think  on  thee  —  and  then  my  state, 
Like  to  the  lark  at  break  of  day  arising 
From  sullen  earth,  sings  hymns  at  heaven's  gate; 
For  thy  sweet  love  remembered  such  loealth  brings, 
Thai  then  I  acoi^n  to  change  my  state  with  kings." 


MC>\.3 


Bxtrctcts  from  a  letter  written  Oct.  29,  1876,  to 
Mbs.  Harriet  Beecheb  Stowe. 

''As  to  the  Jewish  element  in  Deronda,  I  expected 
from  first  to  last,  in  writing  it,  that  it  would  create 
much  stronger  resistance  and  even  repulsion  than  it 
has  actually  met  with.  But  precisely  because  I  felt 
that  the  usual  attitude  of  Christians  towards  Jews  is  — 
I  hardly  know  whether  to  say  more  impious  or  more 
stupid  when  viewed  in  the  light  of  their  professed 
principles,  I  therefore  felt  urged  to  treat  Jews  with 
such  sympathy  and  understanding  as  my  nature  and 
knowledge  could  attain  to.  Moreover,  not  only  towards 
the  Jews,  hut  towards  all  Oriental  peoples  with  whom 
we  English  come  in  contact,  a  spirit  of  arrogance  and 
contemptuous  dictatorialness  is  observable  which  has 
become  a  national  disgrace  to  us.  There  is  nothing  I 
should  care  more  to  do,  if  it  were  possible,  than  to 
rouse  the  imagination  of  men  and  women  to  a  vision  of 
human  claims  in  those  races  of  their  fellowmen  who 
most  differ  from  them  in  customs  and  beliefs.  But 
towards  the  Hebrews  we  Western  people  who  have  been 
reared  in  Christianity  have  a  peculiar  debt,  and  whether 
we  acknowledge  it  or  not,  a  peculiar  thoroughness  of 
fellowship  in  religious  and  moral  sentiment.  Can  any- 
thing be  more  disgusting  than  to  hear  people  called 
*  educated '  making  small  jokes  about  eating  ham,  and 
showing  themselves  empty  of  any  real  knowledge  as  to 
the  relation  of  their  own  social  and  religious  life  to 
the  history  of  the  people  they  think  themselves  witty 
in  insulting  ?  They  hardly  know  that  Christ  was  a 
Jew.  And  I  find  men,  educated,  supposing  that 
Christ  spoke  Greek.     To  my  feeling,  this  deadness  to 


the  history  which  has  prepared  half  our  world  for  us, 
this  inability  to  find  interest  in  any  form  of  life  that 
is  not  clad  in  the  same  coat-tails  and  flounces  as  our 
own,  lies  very  close  to  the  worst  kind  of  irreligion. 
The  best  that  can  be  said  of  it  is  that  it  is  a  sign 
of  the  intellectual  narrowness  —  in  plain  English, 
the  stupidity  —  which  is  still  the  average  mark  of  our 
culture.  Yes,  I  expected  more  aversion  than  I  have 
found.  But  I  was  happily  independent  in  material 
things,  and  felt  no  temptation  to  accommodate  my 
writing  to  any  standard  except  that  of  trying  to  do  my 
best  in  what  seemed  to  me  most  needful  to  be  done; 
and  I  sum  up  with  the  writer  of  the  Book  of  Maccabees : 
*  If  I  have  done  well  and  as  befits  the  subject,  it  is 
what  I  desired;  and  if  I  have  done  ill,  it  is  what  I 
could  attain  unto.'  " 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  PAGE 

I.  The  Spoiled  Child       1 

11.  Meeting  Streams 141 

III.  Maidens  Choosing 276 

\ 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Vol.  I. 
Grandcourt  and  Gwendolen  in  the  Park  {p.  177)     Frontispiece 

Gwendolen  at  the  Gaming-Table Page    4 

Grandcourt     and     Gwendolen     at    the    Archery 

Tournament 144 

Deronda  meets  Mirah  on  the  Banks  of  the  Thames        254 


DANIEL    DEEONDA. 


BOOK  I. 

THE  SPOILED  CHILD. 


CHAPTER   I. 

"  Men  can  do  nothing  without  the  make-believe  of  a  beginning. 
Even  Science,  the  strict  measurer,  is  obliged  to  start  with  a  make- 
believe  unit,  and  must  fix  on  a  point  in  the  stars'  unceasing  journey 
when  his  sidereal  clock  shall  pretend  that  time  is  at  Nought.  His 
less  accurate  grandmother  Poetry  has  always  been  understood  to 
start  in  the  middle ;  but  on  reflection  it  appears  that  her  proceeding 
is  not  very  different  from  his ;  since  Science,  too,  reckons  back- 
wards as  well  as  forwards,  divides  his  unit  into  billions,  and  with 
his  clock -finger  at  Nought  really  sets  off  in  medias  res.  No  retro- 
spect will  take  us  to  the  true  beginning ;  and  whether  our  prologue 
be  in  heaven  or  on  earth,  it  is  but  a  fraction  of  that  all-presuppos- 
ing fact  with  which  our  story  sets  out." 

Was  she  beautiful  or  not  beautiful  ?  and  what  was 
the  secret  of  form  or  expression  which  gave  the 
dynamic  quality  to  her  glance  ?  Was  the  good  or 
the  evil  genius  dominant  in  those  beams  ?  Probably 
the  evil ;  else  why  was  the  effect  that  of  unrest 
rather  than  of  undisturbed  charm  ?  Why  was  the 
wish  to  look  again  felt  as  coercion,  and  not  as  a 
longing  in  which  the  whole  being  consents  ? 

She  who  raised  these  questions  in  Daniel  Deron- 
da's  mind  was  occupied  in  gambling :  not  in  the 
open  air  under  a  southern  sky,  tossing  coppers  on  a 

VOL.  I.  —  1 


2  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

ruined  wall,  with  rags  about  her  limbs  ;  but  in  one 
of  those  splendid  resorts  which  the  enlightenment 
of  ages  has  prepared  for  the  same  species  of  pleasure 
at  a  heavy  cost  of  gilt  mouldings,  dark-toned  colour, 
and  chubby  nudities,  all  correspondingly  heavy,  — 
forming  a  suitable  condenser  for  human  breath  be- 
longing, in  great  part,  to  the  highest  fashion,  and  not 
easily  procurable  to  be  breathed  in  elsewhere  in  the 
like  proportion,  at  least  by  persons  of  little  fashion. 

It  was  near  four  o'clock  on  a  September  day,  so 
that  the  atmosphere  was  well  brewed  to  a  visible 
haze.  There  was  deep  stillness,  broken  only  by  a 
light  rattle,  a  light  chink,  a  small  sweeping  sound, 
and  an  occasional  monotone  in  French,  such  as 
might  be  expected  to  issue  from  an  ingeniously 
constructed  automaton.  Eound  two  long  tables 
were  gathered  two  serried  crowds  of  human  beings, 
all  save  one  having  their  faces  and  attention  bent 
on  the  tables.  The  one  exception  was  a  melan- 
choly little  boy,  with  his  knees  and  calves  simply 
in  their  natural  clothing  of  epidermis,  but  for  the 
rest  of  his  person  in  a  fancy  dress.  He  alone  had 
his  face  turned  towards  the  doorway,  and  fixing  on 
it  the  blank  gaze  of  a  bedizened  child  stationed  as 
a  masquerading  advertisement  on  the  platform  of 
an  itinerant  show,  stood  close  behind  a  lady 
deeply  engaged  at  the  roulette-table. 

About  this  table  fifty  or  sixty  persons  were 
assembled,  many  in  the  outer  rows,  where  there 
was  occasionally  a  deposit  of  new-comers,  being 
mere  spectators,  only  that  one  of  them,  usually  a 
woman,  might  now  and  then  be  observed  putting 
down  a  five-franc  piece  with  a  simpering  air,  just  to 
see  what  the  passion  of  gambling  really  was.  Those 
who  were  taking  their  pleasure  at  a  higher  strength, 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  3 

and  were  absorbed  in  play,  showed  very  distant 
varieties  of  European  type :  Livonian  and  Spanish, 
Graeco-Italian  and  miscellaneous  German,  English 
aristocratic  and  English  plebeian.  Here  certainly  was 
a  striking  admission  of  human  equality.  The  white 
bejewelled  fingers  of  an  English  countess  were  very 
near  touching  a  bony,  yellow,  crab-like  hand  stretch- 
ing a  bared  wrist  to  clutch  a  heap  of  coin,  —  a  hand 
easy  to  sort  with  the  square,  gaunt  face,  deep-set 
eyes,  grizzled  eyebrows,  and  ill-combed  scanty  hair 
■which  seemed  a  slight  metamorphosis  of  the  vul- 
ture. And  where  else  would  her  ladyship  have  gra- 
ciously consented  to  sit  by  that  dry-lipped  feminine 
figure  prematurely  old,  withered  after  short  bloom 
like  her  artificial  flowers,  holding  a  shabby  velvet 
reticule  before  her,  and  occasionally  putting  in  her 
mouth  the  point  with  which  she  pricked  her  card  ? 
There  too,  very  near  the  fair  countess,  was  a  re- 
spectable London  tradesman,  blond  and  soft-handed, 
his  sleek  hair  scrupulously  parted  behind  and  before, 
conscious  of  circulars  addressed  to  the  nobility  and 
gentry,  whose  distinguished  patronage  enabled  him 
to  take  his  holidays  fashionably,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  in  their  distinguished  company.  Not  his  the 
gambler's  passion  that  nullifies  appetite,  but  a  well- 
fed  leisure,  which  in  the  intervals  of  winning  money 
in  business  and  spending  it  showily,  sees  no  better 
resource  than  winning  money  in  play  and  spending 
it  yet  more  showily,  —  reflecting  always  that  Provi- 
dence had  never  manifested  any  disapprobation  of 
his  amusement,  and  dispassionate  enough  to  leave 
off  if  the  sweetness  of  winning  much  and  seeing 
others  lose  had  turned  to  the  sourness  of  losing 
much  and  seeing  others  win.  For  the  vice  of  gam- 
bling lay  in  losing  money  at  it.  In  his  bearing 
there  might  be  something  of  the  tradesman,  but  in. 


4  DANIEL  DEKONDA. 

his  pleasures  he  was  fit  tb  rank  with  the  owners  of 
the  oldest  titles.  Standing  close  to  his  chair  was  a 
handsome  Italian,  calm,  statuesque,  reaching  across 
him  to  place  the  first  pile  of  napoleons  from  a  new 
bagful  just  brought  him  by  an  envoy  with  a  scrolled 
mustache.  The  pile  was  in  half  a  minute  pushed 
over  to  an  old  bewigged  woman  with  eyeglasses 
pinching  her  nose.  There  was  a  slight  gleam,  a 
faint  mumbling  smile  about  the  lips  of  the  old 
woman ;  but  the  statuesque  Italian  remained  impas- 
sive, and  —  probably  secure  in  an  infallible  system 
which  placed  his  foot  on  the  neck  of  chance  —  im- 
mediately prepared  a  new  pile.  So  did  a  man  with 
the  air  of  an  emaciated  beau  or  worn-out  libertine, 
who  looked  at  life  through  one  eyeglass,  and  held 
out  his  hand  tremulously  when  he  asked  for  change. 
It  could  surely  be  no  severity  of  system,  but  rather 
some  dream  of  white  crows,  or  the  induction  that 
the  8th  of  the  month  was  lucky,  which  inspired  the 
fierce  yet  tottering  impulsiveness  of  his  play. 

But  while  every  single  player  differed  markedly 
from  every  other,  there  was  a  certain  uniform  nega- 
tiveness  of  expression  which  had  the  effect  of  a 
mask,  —  as  if  they  had  all  eaten  of  some  root  that 
for  the  time  compelled  the  brains  of  each  to  the 
same  narrow  monotony  of  action. 

Deronda's  first  thought  when  his  eyes  fell  on  this 
scene  of  dull,  gas-poisoned  absorption  was  that  the 
gambling  of  Spanish  shepherd-boys  had  seemed  to 
him  more  enviable,  —  so  far  Rousseau  might  be 
justified  in  maintaining  that  art  and  science  had 
done  a  poor  service  to  mankind.  But;  suddenly  he 
felt  the  moment  become  dramatic.  His  attention 
was  arrested  by  a  young  lady,  who,  standing  at  an 
angle  not  far  from  him,  was  the  last  to  whom  his 
eyes   travelled.      She   was   bending   and    speaking 


c 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  5 

English  to  a  middle-aged  lady  seated  at  play 
beside  her;  but  the  next  instant  she  returned  to 
her  play,  and  showed  the  full  height  of  a  graceful 
figure,  with  a  face  which  might  possibly  be  looked 
at  without  admiration,  but  could  hardly  be  passed 
with  indifference. 

The  inward  debate  which  she  raised  in  Deronda 
gave  to  his  eyes  a  growing  expression  of  scrutiny, 
tending  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  glow  of 
mingled  undefined  sensibilities  forming  admiration. 
At  one  moment  they  followed  the  movements  of 
the  figure,  of  the  arms  and  hands,  as  this  proble- 
matic sylph  bent  forward  to  deposit  her  stake  with 
an  air  of  firm  choice ;  and  the  next  they  returned 
to  the  face,  which,  at  present  unaffected  by  be- 
holders, was  directed  steadily  towards  the  game. 
The  sylph  was  a  winner ;  and  as  her  taper  fingers, 
delicately  gloved  in  pale-gray,  were  adjusting  the 
coins  which  had  been  pushed  towards  her  in  order 
to  pass  them  back  again  to  the  winning  point,  she 
looked  round  her  with  a  survey  too  markedly  cold 
and  neutral  not  to  have  in  it  a  little  of  that  nature 
which  we  call  art  concealing  an  inward  exultation. 

But  in  the  course  of  that  survey  her  eyes  met 
Deronda's,  and  instead  of  averting  them  as  she 
would  have  desired  to  do,  she  was  unpleasantly 
conscious  that  they  were  arrested  —  how  long  ? 
The  darting  sense  that  he  was  measuring  her  and 
looking  down  on  her  as  an  inferior,  that  he  was 
of  different  quality  from  the  human  dross  around 
her,  that  he  felt  himself  in  a  region  outside  and 
above  her,  and  was  examining  her  as  a  specimen 
of  a  lower  order,  roused  a  tingling  resentment  which 
stretched  the  moment  with  conflict.  It  did  not 
bring  the  blood  to  her  cheeks,  but  sent  it  away  from 


6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

her  lips.  She  controlled  herself  by  the  help  of  an 
inward  defiance,  and  without  other  sign  of  emotion 
than  this  lip-paleness,  turned  to  her  play.  But 
Deronda's  gaze  seemed  to  have  acted  as  an  evil  eye. 
Her  stake  was  gone.  No  matter ;  she  had  been 
winning  ever  since  she  took  to  roulette  with  a  few 
napoleons  at  command,  and  had  a  considerable 
reserve.  She  had  begun  to  believe  in  her  luck, 
others  had  begun  to  believe  in  it:  she  had  visions 
of  being  followed  by  a  corUge  who  would  worship 
her  as  a  goddess  of  luck  and  watch  her  play  as  a 
directing  augury.  Such  things  had  been  known  of 
male  gamblers  ;  why  should  not  a  woman  have  a 
like  supremacy  ?  Her  friend  and  chaperon  who 
had  not  wished  her  to  play  at  first  was  beginning 
to  approve,  only  administering  the  prudent  advice 
to  stop  at  the  right  moment  and  carry  money  back 
to  England,  —  advice  to  which  Gwendolen  had 
replied  that  she  cared  for  the  excitement  of  play, 
not  the  winnings.  On  that  supposition  the  pres- 
ent moment  ought  to  have  made  the  flood-tide  in 
her  eager  experience  of  gambling.  Yet  when  her 
next  stake  was  swept  away,  she  felt  the  orbits  of 
her  eyes  getting  hot,  and  the  certainty  she  had 
(without  looking)  of  that  man  still  watching  her, 
was  something  like  a  pressure  which  begins  to  be 
torturing :  the  more  reason  to  her  why  she  should 
not  flinch,  but  go  on  playing  as  if  she  were  indif- 
ferent to  loss  or  gain.  Her  friend  touched  her 
elbow,  and  proposed  that  they  should  quit  the 
table.  For  reply  Gwendolen  put  ten  louis  on  the 
same  spot ;  she  was  in  that  mood  of  defiance  in 
which  the  mind  loses  sight  of  any  end  beyond  the 
satisfaction  of  enraged  resistance,  and  with  the 
puerile  stupidity  of  a  dominant  impulse  includes 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  7 

luck  among  its  objects  of  defiance.  Since  she  was 
not  winning  strikingly,  the  next  best  thing  was  to 
lose  strikingly.  She  controlled  her  muscles,  and 
showed  no  tremor  of  mouth  or  hands.  Each  time 
her  stake  was  swept  off  she  doubled  it.  Many 
were  now  watching  her ;  but  the  sole  observation  she 
was  conscious  of  was  Deronda's,  who,  though  she 
never  looked  towards  him,  she  was  sure  had  not 
moved  away.  Such  a  drama  takes  no  long  while 
to  play  out ;  development  and  catastrophe  can  often 
be  measured  by  nothing  clumsier  than  the  moment- 
hand.  "  Faites  votre  jeu,  mesdames  et  messieurs," 
said  the  automatic  voice  of  destiny  from  between 
the  mustache  and  imperial  of  the  croupier,  and 
Gwendolen's  arm  was  stretched  to  deposit  her 
last  poor  heap  of  napoleons.  "  Le  jeu  ne  va  plus," 
said  destiny.  And  in  five  seconds  Gwendolen 
turned  from  the  table,  but  turned  resolutely  with 
her  face  towards  Deronda  and  looked  at  him.  There 
was  a  smile  of  irony  in  his  eyes  as  their  glances 
met ;  but  it  was  at  least  better  that  he  should  have 
kept  his  attention  fixed  on  her  than  that  he  should 
have  disregarded  her.  as  one  of  an  insect  swarm  who 
had  no  individual  physiognomy.  Besides,  in  spite 
of  his  superciliousness  and  irony,  it  was  difficult  to 
believe  that  he  did  not  admire  her  spirit  as  well  as 
her  person :  he  was  young,  handsome,  distinguished 
in  appearance,  —  not  one  of  those  ridiculous  and 
dowdy  Philistines  who  thought  it  incumbent  on 
them  to  blight  the  gaming-table  with  a  sour  look 
of  protest  as  they  passed  by  it.  The  general  con- 
viction that  we  are  admirable  does  not  easily  give 
way  before  a  single  negative ;  rather,  when  any  of 
Vanity's  large  family,  male  or  female,  find  their 
performance  received  coldly,  they  are  apt  to  believe 


8  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

that  a  little  more  of  it  will  wiu  over  the  unaccoun- 
table dissident.  In  Gwendolen's  habits  of  mind  it 
had  been  taken  for  granted  that  she  knew  what  was 
admirable  and  that  she  herself  was  admired.  This 
basis  of  her  thinking  had  received  a  disagreeable 
concussion,  and  reeled  a  little,  but  was  not  easily  to 
be  overthrown. 

In  the  evening  the  same  room  was  more  stiflingly 
heated,  was  brilliant  with  gas  and  with  the  costumes 
of  many  ladies  who  floated  their  trains  along  it  or 
were  seated  on  the  ottomans. 

The  Nereid  in  sea-green  robes  and  silver  orna- 
ments, with  a  pale  sea-green  feather  fastened  in 
silver  falling  backward  over  her  green  hat  and 
light-brown  hair,  was  Gwendolen  Harleth.  She 
was  under  the  wing,  or  rather  soared  by  the 
shoulder,  of  the  lady  who  had  sat  by  her  at  the 
roulette-table ;  and  with  them  was  a  gentleman  with 
a  white  mustache  and  clipped  hair :  solid-browed, 
stiff,  and  German.  They  were  walking  about  or 
standing  to  chat  with  acquaintances ;  and  Gwen- 
dolen was  much  observed  by  the  seated  groups. 

"  A  striking  girl  —  that  Miss  Harleth  —  unlike 
others." 

"  Yes ;  she  has  got  herself  up  as  a  sort  of  serpent 
now,  all  green  and  silver,  and  winds  her  neck  about 
a  little  more  than  usual." 

"  Oh,  she  must  always  be  doing  something  extra- 
ordinary. She  is  that  kind  of  girl,  I  fancy.  Do 
you  think  her  pretty,  Mr.  Vandernoodt  ? " 

"Very.  A  man  might  risk  hanging  for  her, —  I 
mean,  a  fool  might." 

"  You  like  a  nez  retroussS  then,  and  long  narrow 
eyes  ?  " 

"  When  they  go  with  such  an  ensemble." 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  9 

"  The  ensemhle  du  serpe7it  ?  " 

"  If  you  will.  Woman  was  tempted  by  a  serpent: 
why  not  man  ?  " 

"  She  is  certainly  very  graceful.  But  she  wants 
a  tinge  of  colour  in  her  cheeks :  it  is  a  sort  of  Lamia 
beauty  she  has." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  think  her  complexion  one  of 
her  chief  charms.  It  is  a  warm  paleness :  it  looks 
thoroughly  healthy.  And  that  delicate  nose  with 
its  gradual  little  upward  curve  is  distracting.  And 
then  her  mouth, —  there  never  was  a  prettier  mouth, 
the  lips  curl  backward  so  finely,  eh,  Mackworth  ? " 

"  Think  so  ?  I  cannot  endure  that  sort  of  mouth. 
It  looks  so  self-complacent,  as  if  it  knew  its  own 
beauty, —  the  curves  are  too  immovable.  I  like  a 
mouth  that  trembles  more." 

"  For  my  part  I  think  her  odious,"  said  a  dowager. 
"It  is  wonderful  what  unpleasant  girls  get  into 
vogue.  Who  are  these  Langens  ?  Does  anybody 
know  them  ? " 

"  They  are  quite  co7nme  il  faut.  I  have  dined 
with  them  several  times  at  the  Bussie.  The  baroness 
is  English.  Miss  Harleth  calls  her  cousin.  The 
girl  herself  is  thoroughly  well-bred,  and  as  clever  as 
possible." 

"  Dear  me  !     And  the  baron  ?  " 

"  A  very  good  furniture  picture." 

"  Your  baroness  is  always  at  the  roulette-table," 
said  Mackworth.  "  I  fancy  she  has  taught  the  girl 
to  gamble." 

"  Oh,  the  old  woman  plays  a  very  sober  game ; 
drops  a  ten-franc  piece  here  and  there.  The  girl  is 
more  headlong.     But  it  is  only  a  freak." 

"  I  hear  she  has  lost  all  her  winnings  to-day. 
Are  they  rich  ?     Who  knows  ? " 


10  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  Ah,  who  knows  ?  who  knows  that  about  any- 
body ?  "  said  Mr.  Vandemoodt,  moving  off  to  join  the 
Langens. 

The  remark  that  Gwendolen  wound  her  neck 
about  more  than  usual  this  evening  was  true.  But 
it  was  not  that  she  might  carry  out  the  serpent  idea 
more  completely :  it  was  that  she  watched  for  any 
chance  of  seeing  Deronda,  so  that  she  might  inquire 
about  this  stranger,  under  whose  measuring  gaze 
she  was  still  wincing.    At  last  her  opportunity  came. 

"  Mr.  Vandemoodt,  you  know  everybody,"  said 
Gwendolen,  not  too  eagerly,  rather  with  a  certain 
languor  of  utterance  which  she  sometimes  gave  to 
her  clear  soprano.     "  Who  is  that  near  the  door  ?  " 

"  There  are  half-a-dozen  near  the  door.  Do  you 
mean  that  old  Adonis  in  the  George  the  Fourth 
wig?" 

"  No,  no ;  the  dark-haired  young  man  on  the  right 
with  the  dreadful  expression." 

"  Dreadful,  do  you  call  it  ?  I  think  he  is  an 
uncommonly  fine  fellow." 

"  But  who  is  he  ? " 

"  He  is  lately  come  to  our  hotel  with  Sir  Hugo 
Mallinger." 

"  Sir  Hugo  Mallinger?" 

"Yes.     Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  No."  (Gwendolen  coloured  slightly.)  **  He  has 
a  place  near  us,  but  he  never  comes  to  it.  What 
did  you  say  was  the  name  of  that  gentleman  near 
the  door  ? " 

"  Deronda, —  Mr.  Deronda." 

"  What  a  delightful  name  1  Is  he  an  English- 
man?" 

"  Yes.  He  is  reported  to  be  rather  closely  related 
to  the  baronet.     You  are  interested  in  him  ? " 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  ii 

"Yes.  I  think  he  is  not  like  young  men  in 
general." 

"  And  you  don't  admire  young  men  in  general  ? " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I  always  know  what  they 
will  say.  I  can't  at  all  guess  what  this  Mr.  Deronda 
would  say.     What  does  he  say  ? " 

"Nothing,  chiefly.  I  sat  with  his  party  for  a 
good  hour  last  night  on  the  terrace,  and  he  never 
spoke  —  and  was  not  smoking  either.  He  looked 
bored." 

"  Another  reason  why  I  should  like  to  know  him. 
I  am  always  bored." 

"  I  should  think  he  would  be  charmed  to  have  an 
introduction.  Shall  I  bring  it  about  ?  Will  you 
allow  it,  baroness  ? " 

"Why  not?  —  since  he  is  related  to  Sir  Hugo 
Mallinger.  It  is  a  new  rdle  of  yours,  Gwendolen, 
to  be  always  bored,"  continued  Madame  von  Langen, 
when  Mr.  Vandernoodt  had  moved  away.  "  Until 
now  you  have  always  seemed  eager  about  something 
from  morning  till  night." 

"  That  is  just  because  I  am  bored  to  death.  If  I 
am.  to  leave  off  play,  I  must  break  my  arm  or  my 
collar-bone.  I  must  make  something  happen ;  un- 
less you  will  go  into  Switzerland  and  take  me  up 
the  Matterhorn." 

"  Perhaps  this  Mr.  Deronda's  acquaintance  will 
do  instead  of  the  Matterhorn." 

"Perhaps." 

But  Gwendolen  did  not  make  Deronda's  acquaint- 
ance on  this  occasion.  Mr.  Vandernoodt  did  not 
succeed  in  bringing  him  up  to  her  that  evening, 
and  when  she  re-entered  her  own  room  she  found  a 
letter  recalling  her  home. 


CHAPTER  IL 

*•  This  man  contrives  a  secret  'twixt  us  two, 
That  he  may  quell  me  with  his  meetmg  eyes 
Like  one  who  quells  a  lioness  at  bay." 

This  was  the    letter    Gwendolen    found    on    her 
table :  — 

Dearest  Child,  —  I  have  been  expecting  to  hear 
from  you  for  a  week.  In  your  last  you  said  the  Lan- 
gens  thought  of  leaving  Leubronn  and  going  to  Baden. 
How  could  you  be  so  thoughtless  as  to  leave  ipe  in 
uncertainty  about  your  address?  I  am  in  the  greatest 
anxiety  lest  this  should  not  reach  you.  In  any  case  you 
were  to  come  home  at  the  end  of  September,  and  I  must 
now  entreat  you  to  return  as  quickly  as  possible,  for  if 
you  spent  all  your  money  it  would  be  out  of  my  power 
to  send  j'ou  any  more,  and  you  must  not  borrow  of  the 
Langens,  for  1  could  not  repay  them.  This  is  the  sad 
truth,  my  child  —  I  wish  I  could  prepare  you  for  it 
better  —  but  a  dreadful  calamity  has  befallen  us  all. 
You  know  nothing  about  business  and  will  not  under- 
stand it;  but  Grapnell  &  Co.  have  failed  for  a  million 
and  we  are  totally  ruined  —  your  aunt  Gascoigne  as 
well  as  I,  only  that  your  uncle  has  his  benefice,  so  that 
by  putting  down  their  carriage  and  getting*  interest  for 
the  boys,  the  family  can  go  on.  All  the  property  our 
poor  father  saved  for  us  goes  to  pay  the  liabilities. 
There  is  nothing  I  can  call  my  own.  It  is  better  you 
should  know  this  at  once,  though  it  rends  my  heart  to 
have  to  tell  it  you.  Of  course  we  cannot  help  thinking 
what  a  pity  it  was  that  you  went  away  just  when  you 
did.     But  I  shall  never  reproach  you,  my  dear  child; 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  13 

I  would  sav6  you  from  all  trouble  if  I  could.  On  your 
way  home  you  will  have  time  to  prepare  yourself  for 
the  change  you  will  find.  We  shall  perhaps  leave 
Offendene  at  once,  for  we  hope  that  Mr.  Haynes,  who 
wanted  it  before,  may  be  ready  to  take  it  off  my  hands. 
Of  course  we  cannot  go  to  the  Rectory, —  there  is  not  a 
corner  there  to  spare.  We  must  get  some  hut  or  other 
to  shelter  us,  and  we  must  live  on  your  uncle  Gascoigne's 
charity,  until  I  see  what  else  can  be  done.  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  pay  the  debts  to  the  tradesmen  besides  the 
servants'  wages.  Summon  up  your  fortitude,  my  dear 
child;  we  must  resign  ourselves  to  God's  will.  But 
it  is  hard  to  resign  one's  self  to  Mr.  Lassman's  wicked 
recklessness,  which  they  say  was  the  cause  of  the  fail- 
ure. Your  poor  sisters  can  only  cry  with  me  and  give 
me  no  help.  If  you  were  once  here,  there  might  be  a 
break  in  the  cloud.  T  always  feel  it  impossible  that 
you  can  have  been  meant  for  poverty.  If  the  Langens 
wish  to  remain  abroad,  perhaps  you  can  put  yourself 
under  some  one  else's  care  for  the  journey.  But  come 
as  soon  as  you  can  to  your  afflicted  and  loving  mamma, 

Fanny  Davilow. 

The  first  effect  of  this  letter  on  Gwendolen  was 
half  stupefying.  The  implicit  confidence  that  her 
destiny  must  be  one  of  luxurious  ease,  where  any 
trouble  that  occurred  would  be  well  clad  and  pro- 
vided for,  had  been  stronger  in  her  own  mind  than 
in  her  mamma's,  being  fed  there  by  her  youthful  blood 
and  that  sense  of  superior  claims  which  made  a 
large  part  of  her  consciousness.  It  was  almost  as 
difficult  for  her  to  believe  suddenly  that  her  position 
had  become  one  of  poverty  and  humiliating  depen- 
dence, as  it  would  have  been  to  get  into  the  strong 
current  of  her  blooming  life  the  chill  sense  that  her 
death  would  really  come.  She  stood  motionless  for 
a  few  minutes,  then  tossed  off  her  hat  and  automati- 


14  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

cally  looked  in  the  glass.  The  coils  of  her  smooth 
light-brown  hair  were  still  in  order  perfect  enough 
for  a  ball-room ;  and  as  on  other  nights,  Gwendolen 
might  have  looked  lingeringly  at  herself  for  pleasure 
(surely  an  allowable  indulgence) ;  but  now  she  took 
no  conscious  note  of  her  reflected  beauty,  and  simply 
stared  right  before  her  as  if  she  had  been  jarred  by 
a  hateful  sound  and  was  waiting  for  any  sign  of  its 
cause.  By  and  by  she  threw  herself  in  the  corner 
of  the  red  velvet  sofa,  took  up  the  letter  again  and 
read  it  twice  deliberately,  letting  it  at  last  fall  on 
the  ground,  while  she  rested  her  clasped  hands  on 
her  lap  and  sat  perfectly  still,  shedding  no  tears. 
Her  impulse  was  to  survey  and  resist  the  situation 
rather  than  to  wail  over  it.  There  was  no  inward 
exclamation  of  "  Poor  mamma  ! "  Her  mamma  had 
never  seemed  to  get  much  enjoyment  out  of  life ; 
and  if  Gwendolen  had  been  at  this  moment  disposed 
to  feel  pity,  she  would  have  bestowed  it  on  herself, 
—  for  was  she  not  naturally  and  rightfully  the  chief 
object  of  her  mamma's  anxiety  too  ?  But  it  was  anger, 
it  was  resistance,  that  possessed  her ;  it  was  bitter 
vexation  that  she  had  lost  her  gains  at  roulette, 
whereas  if  her  luck  had  continued  through  this  one 
day  she  would  have  had  a  handsome  sum  to  carry 
home,  or  she  might  have  gone  on  playing  and  won 
enough  to  support  them  all.  Even  now  was  it  not 
possible  ?  She  had  only  four  napoleons  left  in  her 
purse,  but  she  possessed  some  ornaments  which  she 
could  sell,  —  a  practice  so  common  in  stylish  society 
at  German  baths  that  there  was  no  need  to  be 
ashamed  of  it ;  and  even  if  she  had  not  received  her 
mamma's  letter,  she  would  probably  have  decided  to 
get  money  for  an  Etruscan  necklace  which  she  hap- 
pened not  to  have  been  wearing  since  her  arrival ', 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  15 

nay,  she  might  have  done  so  with  an  agreeable  sense 
that  she  was  living  with  some  intensity  and  escap- 
ing humdrum.  With  ten  louis  at  her  disposal  and 
a  return  of  her  former  luck,  which  seemed  probable, 
what  could  she  do  better  than  go  on  playing  for  a 
few  days  ?  If  her  friends  at  home  disapproved  of 
the  way  in  which  she  got  the  money,  as  they  cer- 
tainly would,  still  the  money  would  be  there. 
Gwendolen's  imagination  dwelt  on  this  course  and 
created  agreeable  consequences,  but  not  with  unbro- 
ken confidence  and  rising  certainty,  as  it  would  have 
done  if  she  had  been  touched  with  the  gambler's 
mania.  She  had  gone  to  the  roulette-table  not 
because  of  passion,  but  in  search  of  it:  her  mind 
was  still  sanely  capable  of  picturing  balanced  proba- 
bilities, an^  while  the  chance  of  winning  allured 
her,  the  chance  of  losing  thrust  itself  on  her  with 
alternate  strength,  and  made  a  vision  from  which 
her  pride  shrank  sensitively.  For  she  was  resolved 
not  to  tell  the  Langens  that  any  misfortune  had 
befallen  her  family,  or  to  make  herself  in  any  way 
indebted  to  their  compassion  ;  and  if  she  were  to 
part  with  her  jewelry  to  any  observable  extent,  they 
would  interfere  by  inquiries  and  remonstrances. 
The  course  that  held  the  least  risk  of  intolerable 
annoyance  was  to  raise  money  on  her  necklace  early 
in  the  morning,  tell  the  Langens  that  her  mamma 
desired  her  immediate  return  without  giving  a  reason, 
and  take  the  train  for  ^  Brussels  that  evening.  She 
had  no  maid  with  her,  and  the  Langens  might  make 
difficulties  about  her  returning  alone,  but  her  will 
was  peremptory. 

Instead  of  going  to  bed  she  made  as  brilliant  a 
light  as  she  could  and  began  to  pack,  working  diU- 
ijently,  though  all  the  while  visited  by  the  scenes 


i6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

that  might  take  place  on  the  coming  day,  —  now  by 
the  tiresome  explanations  and  farewells  and  the 
whirling  journey  towards  a  changed  home,  now  by 
the  alternative  of  staying  just  another  day  and 
standing  again  at  the  roulette-table.  But  always 
in  this  latter  scene  there  was  the  presence  of  that 
Deronda,  watching  her  with  exasperating  irony, 
and  —  the  two  keen  experiences  were  inevitably 
revived  together  —  beholding  her  again  forsaken 
by  luck.  This  importunate  image  certainly  helped 
to  sway  her  resolve  on  the  side  of  immediate 
departure,  and  to  urge  her  packing  to  the  point 
which  would  make  a  change  of  mind  inconvenient. 
It  had  struck  twelve  when  she  came  into  her  room, 
and  by  the  time  she  was  assuring  herself  that  she 
had  left  out  only  what  was  necessary,  the  faint  dawn 
was  stealing  through  the  white  blinds  and  dulling 
her  candles.  What  was  the  use  of  going  to  bed? 
Her  cold  bath  was  refreshment  enough,  and  she 
saw  that  a  slight  trace  of  fatigue  about  the  eyes 
only  made  her  look  the  more  interesting.  Before 
six  o'clock  she  was  completely  equipped  in  her  gray 
travelling  dress  even  to  her  felt  hat,  for  she  meant 
to  walk  out  as  soon  as  she  could  count  on  seeing 
other  ladies  on  their  way  to  the  springs.  And 
happening  to  be  seated  sideways  before  the  long 
strip  of  mirror  between  her  two  windows,  she 
turned  to  look  at  herself,  leaning  her  elbow  on  the 
back  of  the  chair  in  an  attitude  that  might  have 
been  chosen  for  her  portrait.  It  is  possible  to  have 
a  strong  self-love  without  any  self-satisfaction,  rather 
with  a  self-discontent  which  is  the  more  intense 
because  one's  own  little  core  of  egoistic  sensibility 
is  a  supreme  care ;  but  Gwendolen  knew  nothing 
of  such  inward  strife.     She  had  a  naive  delight  in 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  17 

her  fortunate  self,  which  any  but  the  harshest 
saintliness  will  have  some  indulgence  for  in  a  girl 
who  had  every  day  seen  a  pleasant  reflection  of 
that  self  in  her  friends'  flattery  as  well  as  in  the 
looking-glass.  And  even  in  this  beginning  of 
troubles,  while  for  lack  of  anything  else  to  do 
she  sat  gazing  at  her  image  in  the  growing  light, 
her  face  gathered  a  complacency  gradual  as  the 
cheerfulness  of  the  morning.  Her  beautiful  lips 
curled  into  a  more  and  more  decided  smile,  till 
at  last  she  took  off  her  hat,  leaned  forward  and 
kissed  the  cold  glass  which  had  looked  so  warm. 
How  could  she  believe  in  sorrow?  If  it  attacked 
her,  she  felt  the  force  to  crush  it,  to  defy  it,  or  run 
away  from  it,  as  she  had  done  already.  Anything 
seemed  more  possible  than  that  she  could  go  on 
bearing   miseries,   great   or   small. 

Madame  von  Langen  never  went  out  before  break- 
fast, so  that  Gwendolen  could  safely  end  her  early 
walk  by  taking  her  way  homeward  through  the  Obere 
Strasse  in  which  was  the  needed  shop,  sure  to  be 
open  after  seven.  At  that  hour  any  observers  whom 
she  minded  would  be  either  on  their  walks  in  the 
region  of  the  springs,  or  would  be  still  in  their 
bedrooms ;  but  certainly  there  was  one  grand  hotel, 
the  Czarina,  from  which  eyes  might  follow  her  up 
to  Mr. Wiener's  door.  This  was  a  chance  to  be  risked : 
might  she  not  be  going  in  to  buy  something  which 
had  struck  her  fancy  ?  This  implicit  falsehood 
passed  through  her  mind  as  she  remembered  that 
the  Czarina  was  Deronda's  hotel ;  but  she  was  then 
already  far  up  the  Obere  Strasse,  and  she  walked 
on  with  her  usual  floating  movement,  every  line 
in  her  figure  and  drapery  falling  in  gentle  curves, 
attractive  to  all  eyes  except  those  wliich  discerned 

VOL.  I.  —  2 


I8  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

in  them  too  close  a  resemblance  to  the  serpent, 
and  objected  to  the  revival  of  serpent-worship. 
She  looked  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the 
left,  and  transacted  her  business  in  the  shop  with 
a  coolness  which  gave  little  Mr,  Wiener  nothing 
to  remark  except  her  proud  grace  of  manner,  and 
the  superior  size  and  quality  of  the  three  central 
turquoises  in  the  necklace  she  offered  him.  They 
had  belonged  to  a  chain  once  her  father's ;  but  she 
had  never  known  her  father,  and  the  necklace  was  in 
all  respects  the  ornament  she  could  most  conven- 
iently part  with.  Who  supposes  that  it  is  an 
impossible  contradiction  to  be  superstitious  and 
rationalizing  at  the  same  time?  Roulette  encour- 
ages a  romantic  superstition  as  to  the  chances  of  the 
game,  and  the  most  prosaic  rationalism  as  to  human 
sentiments  which  stand  in  the  way  of  raising  need- 
ful money.  Gwendolen's  dominant  regret  was  that 
after  all  she  had  only  nine  louis  to  add  to  the  four 
in  her  purse  :  these  Jew  dealers  were  so  unscrupu- 
lous in  taking  advantage  of  Christians  unfortunate 
at  play  !  But  she  was  the  Langens'  guest  in  their 
hired  apartment,  and  had  nothing  to  pay  there; 
thirteen  louis  would  do  more  than  take  her  l|ome ; 
even  if  she  determined  on  risking  three,  the  remain- 
ing ten  would  more  than  suffice,  since  she  meant 
to  travel  right  on,  day  and  night.  As  she  turned 
homewards,  nay,  entered  and  seated  herself  in  the 
salon  to  await  her  friends  and  breakfast,  she  still 
wavered  as  to  her  immediate  departure,  or  rather 
she  had  concluded  to  tell  the  Langens  simply  that 
she  had  had  a  letter  from  her  mamma  desiring  her 
return,  and  to  leave  it  still  undecided  when  she 
should  start.  It  was  already  the  usual  breakfast- 
time,  and  hearing  some  one  enter  as  she  was  lean- 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  19 

ing  back  rather  tired  and  hungry  with  her  eyes  shut, 
she  rose  expecting  to  see  one  or  other  of  the  Langens, 
—  the  words  which  might  determine  her  lingering 
at  least  another  day  ready  formed  to  pass  her  lips. 
But  it  was  the  servant  bringing  in  a  small  packet 
for  Miss  Harleth,  which  had  that  moment  been  left 
at  the  door.  Gwendolen  took  it  in  her  hand  and 
immediately  hurried  into  her  own  room.  She  looked 
paler  and  more  agitated  than  when  she  had  first 
read  her  mamma's  letter.  Something  —  she  never 
quite  knew  what  —  revealed  to  her  before  she  opened 
the  packet  that  it  contained  the  necklace  she  had 
just  parted  with.  Underneath  the  paper  it  was 
wrapt  in  a  cambric  handkerchief,  and  within  this 
was  a  scrap  of  torn-off  note-paper,  on  which  was 
written  with  a  pencil  in  clear  but  rapid  handwriting : 
"A  stranger  who  has  found  Miss  Harleth's  necklace 
returns  it  to  her  with  the  hope  that  she  will  not  again 
risk  the  loss  of  it." 

Gwendolen  reddened  with  the  vexation  of  wounded 
pride.  A  large  corner  of  the  handkerchief  seemed 
to  have  been  recklessly  torn  off  to  get  rid  of  a  mark ; 
but  she  at  once  believed  in  the  first  image  of  "  the 
stranger  "  that  presented  itself  to  her  mind.  It  was 
Deronda ;  he  must  have  seen  her  go  into  the  shop ; 
he  must  have  gone  in  immediately  after,  and  re- 
purchased the  necklace.  He  had  taken  an  unpar- 
donable liberty,  and  had  dared  to  place  her  in  a 
thoroughly  hateful  position.  What  could  she  do  ? — 
Not,  assuredly,  act  on  her  conviction  that  it  was  he 
who  had  sent  her  the  necklace  and  straightway  send 
it  back  to  him :  that  would  be  to  face  the  possibility 
that  she  had  been  mistaken ;  nay,  even  if  the 
"  stranger  "  were  he  and  no  other,  it  would  be  some- 
thing too  gross  for  her  to  let  him  know  that  she 


20  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

had  divined  this,  and  to  meet  him  again  with  that 
recognition  in  their  minds.  He  knew  very  well  that 
he  was  entangling  her  in  helpless  humiliation :  it  was 
another  way  of  smiling  at  her  ironically,  and  taking 
the  air  of  a  supercilious  mentor.  Gwendolen  felt  the 
bitter  tears  of  mortification  rising  and  rolling  down 
her  cheeks.  No  one  had  ever  before  dared  to  treat 
her  with  irony  and  contempt.  One  thing  was  clear: 
she  must  carry  out  her  resolution  to  quit  this  place 
at  once  ;  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  reappear  in  the 
public  salon,  still  less  stand  at  the  gaming-table  with 
the  risk  of  seeing  Deronda.  Now  came  an  impor- 
tunate knock  at  the  door:  breakfast  was  ready. 
Gwendolen  with  a  passionate  movement  thrust  neck- 
lace, cambric,  scrap  of  paper,  and  all  into  her  n^ces- 
saire,  pressed  her  handkerchief  against  her  face,  and 
after  pausing  a  minute  or  two  to  summon  back  her 
proud  self-control,  went  to  join  her  friends.  Such 
signs  of  tears  and  fatigue  as  were  left  seemed  accor- 
dant enough  with  the  account  she  at  once  gave  of 
her  having  been  called  home,  for  some  reason  which 
she  feared  might  be  a  trouble  of  her  mamma's ;  and 
of  her  having  sat  up  to  do  her  packing,  instead 
of  waiting  for  help  from  her  friend's  maid.  There 
was  much  protestation,  as  she  had  expected,  against 
her  travelling  alone,  but  she  persisted  in  refusing 
any  arrangements  for  companionship.  She  would 
be  put  into  the  ladies'  compartment  and  go  right  on. 
She  could  rest  exceedingly  well  in  the  train,  and 
was  afraid  of  nothing. 

In  this  way  it  happened  that  Gwendolen  never 
reappeared  at  the  roulette-table,  but  that  Thursday 
evening  left  Leubronn  for  Brussels,  and  on  Saturday 
morning  arrived  at  Offendene,  the  home  to  which 
she  and  her  family  were  soon  to  say  a  last  go.od-by. 


CHAPTEE  HI. 

Let  no  flower  of  the  spring  pass  by  us  :  let  us  crown  ourselves 
with  rosebuds  before  they  be  withered.  — Book  of  Wisdom. 

Pity  that  Offendene  was  not  the  home  of  Miss 
Harleth's  childhood,  or  endeared  to  her  by  family 
memories !  A  human  life,  I  think,  should  be  well 
rooted  in  some  spot  of  a  native  land,  where  it  may 
get  the  love  of  tender  kinship  for  the  face  of  earth, 
for  the  labours  men  go  forth  to,  for  the  sounds  and 
accents  that  haunt  it,  for  whatever  will  give  that 
early  home  a  familiar  unmistakable  difference  amidst 
the  future  widening  of  knowledge  :  a  spot  where  the 
definiteness  of  early  memories  may  be  inwrought 
with  affection,  and  kindly  acquaintance  with  all 
neighbours,  even  to  the  dogs  and  donkeys,  may 
spread  not  by  sentimental  effort  and  reflection,  but 
as  a  sweet  habit  of  the  blood.  At  five  years  old, 
mortals  are  not  prepared  to  be  citizens  of  the  world, 
to  be  stimulated  by  abstract  nouns,  to  soar  above 
preference  into  impartiality ;  and  that  prejudice  in 
favour  of  milk  with  which  we  blindly  begin,  is  a 
type  of  the  way  body  and  soul  must  get  nourished 
at  least  for  a  time.  The  best  introduction  to  astron- 
omy is  to  think  of  the  nightly  heavens  as  a  little 
lot  of  stars  belonging  to  one's  own  homestead. 

But  this  blessed  persistence  in  which  affection 
can  take  root  had  been  wanting  in  Gwendolen's 
life.  It  was  only  a  year  before  her  recall  from 
Leubronn  that  Offendene  had  been  chosen  as  her 


ai  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

mamma's  home,  simply  for  its  nearness  to  Pennicote 
Rectory,  and  that  Mrs.  Davilow,  Gwendolen,  and 
her  four  half-sisters  (the  governess  and  the  maid 
following  in  another  vehicle)  had  been  driven  along 
the  avenue  for  the  first  time,  on  a  late  October 
afternoon  when  the  rooks  were  cawing  loudly  above 
them,  and  the  yellow  elm-leaves  were  whirling. 

The  season  suited  the  aspect  of  the  old  oblong 
red  brick  house,  rather  too  anxiously  ornamented 
with  stone  at  every  line,  not  excepting  the  double 
row  of  narrow  windows  and  the  large  square  portico. 
The  stone  encouraged  a  greenish  lichen,  the  brick  a 
powdery  gray,  so  that  though  the  building  was 
rigidly  rectangular  there  was  no  harshness  in  the 
physiognomy  which  it  turned  to  the  three  avenues 
cut  east,  west,  and  south  in  the  hundred  yards' 
breadth  of  old  plantation  encircling  the  immediate 
grounds.  One  would  have  liked  the  house  to  have 
been  lifted  on  a  knoll,  so  as  to  look  beyond  its  own 
little  domain  to  the  long  thatched  roofs  of  the 
distant  villages,  the  church  towers,  the  scattered 
homesteads,  the  gradual  rise  of  surging  woods,  and 
the  green  breadths  of  undulating  park  which  made 
the  beautiful  face  of  the  earth  in  that  part  of  Wes- 
sex.  But  though  standing  thus  behind  a  screen 
amid  flat  pastures,  it  had  on  one  side  a  glimpse  of 
the  wider  world  in  the  lofty  curves  of  the  chalk 
downs,  grand  steadfast  forms  played  over  by  the 
changing  days. 

The  house  was  but  just  large  enough  to  be  called 
a  mansion,  and  was  moderately  rented,  having  no 
manor  attached  to  it,  and  being  rather  difficult  to 
let  with  its  sombre  furniture  and  faded  upholstery. 
But  inside  and  outside  it  was  what  no  beholder  could 
suppose  to  be  inhabited  by   retired   tradespeople : 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  23 

a  certainty  which  was  worth  many  conveniences  to 
tenants  who  not  only  had  the  taste  that  shrinks 
from  new  finery,  but  also  were  in  that  border- 
territory  of  rank  where  annexation  is  a  burning 
topic ;  and  to  take  up  her  abode  in  a  house  which 
had  once  sufficed  for  dowager  countesses  gave  a 
perceptible  tinge  to  Mrs.  Davilow's  satisfaction  in 
having  an  establishment  of  her  own.  This,  rather 
mysteriously  to  Gwendolen,  appeared  suddenly  possi- 
ble on  the  death  of  her  step-father  Captain  Davilow, 
who  had  for  the  last  nine  years  joined  his  family 
only  in  a  brief  and  fitful  manner,  enough  to  reconcile 
them  to  his  long  absences;  but  she  cared  much 
more  for  the  fact  than  for  the  explanation.  All  her 
prospects  had  become  more  agreeable  in  consequence. 
She  had  disliked  their  former  way  of  life,  roving 
from  one  foreign  watering-place  or  Parisian  apart- 
ment to  another,  always  feeling  new  antipathies  to 
new  suites  of  hired  furniture,  and  meeting  new 
people  under  conditions  which  made  her  appear  of 
little  importance ;  and  the  variation  of  having  passed 
two  years  at  a  showy  school,  where  on  all  occasions 
of  display  she  had  been  put  foremost,  had  only 
deepened  her  sense  that  so  exceptional  a  person  as 
herself  could  hardly  remain  in  ordinary  circum- 
stances or  in  a  social  position  less  than  advantageous. 
Any  fear  of  this  latter  evil  was  banished  now  that 
her  mamma  was  to  have  an  establishment ;  for  on 
the  point  of  birth  Gwendolen  was  quite  easy.  She 
had  no  notion  how  her  maternal  grandfather  got  the 
fortune  inherited  by  his  two  daughters  ;  but  he  had 
been  a  West  Indian  —  which  seemed  to  exclude 
further  question;  and  she  knew  that  her  father's 
family  was  so  high  as  to  take  no  notice  of  her 
mamma,   who   nevertheless   preserved   with   much. 


24  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

pride  the  miniature  of  a  Lady  Molly  in  that  connec- 
tion. She  would  probably  have  known  much  more 
about  her  father  but  for  a  little  incident  which 
happened  when  she  was  twelve  years  old.  Mrs. 
Davilow  had  brought  out,  as  she  did  only  at  wide 
intervals,  various  memorials  of  her  first  husband, 
and  while  showing  his  miniature  to  Gwendolen 
recalled,  with  a  fervour  which  seemed  to  count  on  a 
peculiar  filial  sympathy,  the  fact  that  dear  papa  had 
died  when  his  little  daughter  was  in  long  clothes. 
Gwendolen,  immediately  thinking  of  the  unlovable 
step-father  whom  she  had  been  acquainted  with  the 
greater  part  of  her  life  while  her  frocks  were  short, 
said, — 

"  Why  did  you  marry  again,  mamma  ?  It  would 
have  been  nicer  if  you  had  not." 

Mrs.  Davilow  coloured  deeply,  a  slight  convulsive 
movement  passed  over  her  face,  and  straightway 
shutting  up  the  memorials,  she  said,  with  a  violence 
quite  unusual  in  her,  — 

"  You  have  no  feeling,  child !  " 

Gwendolen,  who  was  fond  of  her  mamma,  felt 
hurt  and  ashamed,  and  had  never  since  dared  to 
ask  a  question  about  her  father. 

This  was  not  the  only  instance  in  which  she  had 
brought  on  herself  the  pain  of  some  filial  compunc- 
tion. It  was  always  arranged,  when  possible,  that 
she  should  have  a  small  bed  in  lier  mamma's  room ; 
for  Mrs.  Davilow's  motherly  tenderness  clung 
chiefly  to  her  eldest  girl,  who  had  been  born  in  her 
happier  time.  One  night  under  an  attack  of  pain 
she  found  that  the  specific  regularly  placed  by  her 
bedside  had  been  forgotten,  and  begged  Gwendolen 
to  get  out  of  bed  and  reach  it  for  her.  That  healthy 
young  lady,  snug  and  warm  as  a  rosy  infant  in  her 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  2$ 

little  couch,  objected  to  step  out  into  the  cold, 
and  lying  perfectly  still,  grumbled  a  refusal.  Mrs. 
Davilow  went  without  the  medicine,  and  never 
reproached  her  daughter-,  but  the  next  day  Gwen- 
dolen was  keenly  conscious  of  what  must  be  in  her 
mamma's  mind,  and  tried  to  make  amends  by 
caresses  which  cost  her  no  effort.  Having  always 
been  the  pet  and  pride  of  the  household,  waited  on 
by  mother,  sisters,  governess,  and  maids,  as  if  she 
had  been  a  princess  in  exile,  she  naturally  found  it 
difficult  to  think  her  own  pleasure  less  important 
than  others  made  it,  and  when  it  was  positively 
thwarted  felt  an  astonished  resentment  apt,  in  her 
cruder  days,  to  vent  itself  in  one  of  those  passion- 
ate acts  which  look  like  a  contradiction  of  habitual 
tendencies.  Though  never  even  as  a  child  thought- 
lessly cruel,  nay,  delighting  to  rescue  drowning 
insects  and  watch  their  recovery,  there  was  a  dis- 
agreeable silent  remembrance  of  her  having  strangled 
her  sister's  canary-bird  in  a  final  fit  of  exasperation 
at  its  shrill  singing  which  had  again  and  again  jar- 
ringly interrupted  her  own.  She  had  taken  pains  to 
buy  a  white  mouse  for  her  sister  in  retribution,  and 
though  inwardly  excusing  herself  on  the  ground  of 
a  peculiar  sensitiveness  which  was  a  mark  of  her 
general  superiority,  the  thought  of  that  infelonious 
murder  had  always  made  her  wince.  Gwendolen's 
nature  was  not  remorseless,  but  she  liked  to  make 
her  penances  easy,  and  now  that  she  was  twenty 
and  more,  some  of  her  native  force  had  turned  into 
a  self-control  by  which  she  guarded  herself  from 
penitential  humiliation.  There  was  more  show  of 
fire  and  will  in  her  than  ever,  but  there  was  more 
calculation  underneath  it. 

On  this  day  of  arrival  at  Offendene,  which  not 


26  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

even  Mrs.  Davilow  had  seen  before, —  the  place 
having  been  taken  for  her  by  her  brother-in-law  Mr. 
Gascoigne, —  when  all  had  got  down  from  the  car- 
riage, and  were  standing  under  the  porch  in  front 
of  the  open  door,  so  that  they  could  have  both  a 
general  view  of  the  place  and  a  glimpse  of  the  stone 
hall  and  staircase  hung  with  sombre  pictures,  but 
enlivened  by  a  bright  wood  fire,  no  one  spoke  : 
mamma,  the  four  sisters,  and  the  governess  all 
looked  at  Gwendolen,  as  if  their  feelings  depended 
entirely  on  her  decision.  Of  the  girls,  from  Alice  in 
her  sixteenth  year  to  Isabel  in  her  tenth,  hardly 
anything  could  be  said  on  a  first  view,  but  that  they 
were  girlish,  and  that  their  black  dresses  were  get- 
ting shabby.  Miss  Merry  was  elderly,  and  altogether 
neutral  in  expression.  Mrs.  Davilow's  worn  beauty 
seemed  the  more  pathetic  for  the  look  of  entire 
appeal  which  she  cast  at  Gwendolen,  who  was 
glancing  round  at  the  house,  the  landscape,  and 
the  entrance-hall  with  an  air  of  rapid  judgment. 
Imagine  a  young  race-horse  in  the  paddock  among 
untrimmed  ponies  and  patient  hacks. 

"  Well,  dear,  what  do  you  think  of  the  place  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Davilow  at  last,  in  a  gentle  deprecatory 
tone. 

"  I  think  it  is  charming,"  said  Gwendolen,  quickly. 
"  A  romantic  place  ;  anything  delightful  may  happen 
in  it ;  it  would  be  a  good  background  for  anything. 
No  one  need  be  ashamed  of  living  here." 

"  There  is  certainly  nothing  common  about  it." 

"  Oh,  it  would  do  for  fallen  royalty  or  any  sort  of 
grand  poverty.  We  ought  properly  to  have  been  liv- 
ing in  splendour,  and  have  come  down  to  this.  It 
would  have  been  as  romantic  as  could  be.  But  I 
thought  my  uncle  and  aunt  Gascoigne  would  be  here 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  27 

to  meet  us,  and  my  cousin  Anna,"  added  Gwendolen, 
her  tone  changed  to  sharp  surprise. 

"We  are  early,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow ;  and  entering 
the  hall,  she  said  to  the  housekeeper,  who  came 
forward,  "  You  expect  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gascoigne  ? " 

"  Yes,  madam  :  they  were  here  yesterday  to  give 
particular  orders  about  the  fires  and  the  dinner. 
But  as  to  fires,  I  've  had  'em  in  all  the  rooms  for 
the  last  week,  and  everything  is  well  aired.  I 
could  wish  some  of  the  furniture  paid  better  for  all 
the  cleaning  it 's  had,  but  I  think  you  '11  see  the 
brasses  have  been  done  justice  to.  I  think,  when 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gascoigne  come,  they  '11  tell  you  noth- 
ing 's  been  neglected.  They  '11  be  here  at  five,  fof 
certain." 

This  satisfied  Gwendolen,  who  was  not  prepared 
to  have  their  arrival  treated  with  indifference-;  and 
after  tripping  a  little  way  up  the  matted  stone  stair- 
case to  take  a  survey  there,  she  tripped  down  again, 
and  followed  by  all  the  girls  looked  into  each  of 
the  rooms  opening  from  the  hall, —  the  dining- 
room  all  dark  oak  and  worn  red  satin  damask,  with 
a  copy  of  snarling,  worrying  dogs  from  Snyders 
over  the  sideboard,  and  a  Christ  breaking  bread  over 
the  mantelpiece ;  the  library  with  a  general  aspect 
and  smell  of  old  brown  leather;  and  lastly,  the 
drawing  room,  which  was  entered  through  a  small 
antechamber  crowded  with  venerable  knick-knacks. 

"  Mamma,  mamma,  pray  come  here  ! "  said  Gwen- 
dolen, Mrs.  Davilow  having  followed  slowly  in  talk 
with  the  housekeeper.  "  Here  is  an  organ.  I  will 
be  Saint  Cecilia :  some  one  shall  paint  me  as  Saint 
Cecilia.  Jocosa  (this  was  her  name  for  Miss 
Merry),  let  down  my  hair.     See,  mamma!" 

She  had  thrown  off  her  hat  and  gloves,  and  seated 


28  DANIEL  DEHONDA. 

herself  before  the  organ  in  an  admirable  pose,  loot- 
ing upward ;  while  the  submissive  and  sad  Jocosa 
took  out  the  one  comb  which  fastened  the  coil  of 
hair,  and  then  shook  out  the  mass  till  it  fell  in  a 
smooth  light-brown  stream  far  below  its  owner's 
slim  waist. 

Mrs.  Davilow  smiled  and  said,  "  A  charming  pic- 
ture, my  dear ! "  not  indifferent  to  the  display  of 
her  pet,  even  in  the  presence  of  a  housekeeper. 
Gwendolen  rose  and  laughed  with  delight  All 
this  seemed  quite  to  the  purpose  on  entering  a  new 
house  which  was  so  excellent  a  background. 

"  What  a  queer,  quaint,  picturesque  room  !  "  she 
went  on,  looking  about  her.  "I  like  these  old 
embroidered  chairs,  and  the  garlands  on  the  wains- 
cot, and  the  pictures  that  may  be  anything.  That 
one  with  the  ribs  —  nothing  but  ribs  and  darkness 
—  I  should  think  that  is  Spanish,  mamma." 

"  Oh,  Gwendolen  !  "  said  the  small  Isabel,  in  a 
tone  of  astonishment,  while  she  held  open  a  hinged 
panel  of  the  wainscot  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

Every  one,  Gwendolen  first,  went  to  look.  The 
opened  panel  had  disclosed  the  picture  of  an  upturned 
dead  face,  from  which  an  obscure  figure  seemed 
to  be  fleeing  with  outstretched  arms.  "  How  horri- 
ble I "  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  with  a  look  of  mere 
disgust ;  but  Gwendolen  shuddered  silently,  and 
Isabel,  a  plain  and  altogether  inconvenient  child 
with  an  alarming  memory,  said,  — 

"You  will  never  stay  in  this  room  by  yourself, 
Gwendolen." 

"  How  dare  you  open  things  which  were  meant 
to  be  shut  up,  you  perverse  little  creature  ? "  said 
Gwendolen,  in  her  angriest  tone.  Then  snatching 
the  panel  out  of  the  hand  of  the  culprit,  she  closed 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  29 

it  hastily,  saying,  "  There  is  a  lock,  —  where  is  the 
key  ?  Let  the  key  be  found,  or  else  let  one  be 
made,  and  let  nobody  open  it  again ;  or  rather,  let 
the  key  be  brought  to  me." 

At  this  command  to  everybody  in  general  Gwen- 
dolen turned  with  a  face  which  was  flushed  in 
reaction  from  her  chill  shudder,  and  said,  "  Let  us 
go  up  to  our  own  room,  mamma." 

The  housekeeper  on  searching  found  the  key  in 
the  drawer  of  a  cabinet  close  by  the  panel,  and  pres- 
ently handed  it  to  Bugle,  the  lady's  maid,  telling 
her  significantly  to  give  it  to  her  Royal  Highness. 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  mean,  Mrs.  Startin,"  said 
Bugle,  who  had  been  busy  upstairs  during  the  scene 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  was  rather  offended  at  this 
irony  in  a  new  servant. 

"I  mean  the  young  lady  that's  to  command  us 
all  —  and  well  worthy  for  looks  and  figure,"  replied 
Mrs.  Startin,  in  propitiation.  "  She  '11  know  what 
key  it  is." 

"  If  you  have  laid  out  what  we  want,  go  and  see 
to  the  others,  Bugle,"  Gwendolen  had  said,  when 
she  and  Mrs.  Davilow  entered  their  black  and 
yellow  bedroom,  where  a  pretty  little  white  couch 
was  prepared  by  the  side  of  the  black  and  yellow 
catafalque  known  as  "  the  best  bed."  "  I  will  help 
mamma." 

But  her  first  movement  was  to  go  to  the  tall 
mirror  between  the  windows,  which  reflected  her- 
self and  the  room  completely,  while  her  mamma 
sat  down  and  also  looked  at  the  reflection. 

"  That  is  a  becoming  glass,  Gwendolen ;  or  is  it 
the  black  and  gold  colour  that  sets  you  off  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Davilow,  as  Gwendolen  stood  obliquely  with 
her  three-quarter  face  turned  towards  the  mirros 


30  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

and  her  left  hand  brushing  back  the  stream  of 
hair. 

"  I  should  make  a  tolerable  Saint  Cecilia  with 
some  white  roses  on  my  head,"  said  Gwendolen, 
—  "only,  how  about  my  nose,  mamma?  I  think 
saints'  noses  never  in  the  least  turn  up.  I  wish 
you  had  given  me  your  perfectly  straight  nose ;  it 
would  have  done  for  any  sort  of  character,  —  a 
nose  of  all  work.  Mine  is  only  a  happy  nose ;  it 
would  not  do  so  well  for  tragedy." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  any  nose  will  do  to  be  miserable 
with  in  this  world,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  with  a  deep, 
weary  sigh,  throwing  her  black  bonnet  on  the  table, 
and  resting  her  elbow  near  it. 

"  Now,  mamma,"  said  Gwendolen,  in  a  strongly 
remonstrant  tone,  turning  away  from  the  glass 
with  an  air  of  vexation,  "don't  begin  to  be  dull 
here.  It  spoils  all  my  pleasure,  and  everything 
may  be  so  happy  now.  What  have  you  to  be 
gloomy  about   now  ? " 

"Nothing,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  seeming  to 
rouse  herself,  and  beginning  to  take  off  her  dress. 
"It  is  always  enough  for  me  to  see  you  happy." 

"  But  you  should  be  happy  yourself,"  said  Gwen- 
dolen, still  discontentedly,  though  going  to  help 
her  mamma  with  caressing  touches.  "  Can  nobody 
be  happy  after  they  are  quite  yoimg?  You  have 
made  me  feel  sometimes  as  if  nothing  were  of 
any  use.  With  the  girls  so  troublesome,  and 
Jocosa  so  dreadfully  wooden  and  ugly,  and  every- 
thing makeshift  about  us,  and  you  looking  so 
dull,  —  what  was  the  use  of  my  being  anything? 
But  now  you  miffht  be  happy." 

"  So  I  shall,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  patting  the 
cheek  that  was  bending  near  her. 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  31 

"Yes,  but  really.  Not  with  a  sort  of  make- 
believe,"  said  Gwendolen,  with  resolute  persever- 
ance. "  See  what  a  hand  and  arm !  —  much  more 
beautiful  than  mine.  Any  one  can  see  you  were 
altogether  more  beautiful." 

"  No,  no,  dear ;  I  was  always  heavier.  Never  half 
so  charming  as  you  are." 

"  Well,  but  what  is  the  use  of  my  being  charming, 
if  it  is  to  end  in  my  being  dull  and  not  minding 
anything  ?    Is  that  what  marriage  always  comes  to  ? " 

"  No,  child,  certainly  not.  Marriage  is  the  only 
happy  state  for  a  woman,  as  I  trust  you  will  prove." 

"  I  will  not  put  up  with  it  if  it  is  not  a  happy 
state.  I  am  determined  to  be  happy,  —  at  least, 
not  to  go  on  muddling  away  my  life  as  other  people 
do,  being  and  doing  nothing  remarkable.  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  let  other  people  interfere 
with  me  as  they  have  done.  Here  is  some  warm 
water  ready  for  you,  mamma,"  Gwendolen  ended, 
proceeding  to  take  off  her  own  dress  and  then  wait- 
ing to  have  her  hair  wound  up  by  her  mamma. 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  or  two,  till  Mrs. 
Davilow  said,  while  coiling  the  daughter's  hair,  "  I 
am  sure  I  have  never  crossed  you,  Gwendolen." 

"  You  often  want  me  to  do  what  I  don't  like." 

"  You  mean,  to  give  Alice  lessons  ? " 

"  Yes.  And  I  have  done  it  because  you  asked  me. 
But  I  don't  see  why  I  should,  else.  It  bores  me  to 
death,  she  is  so  slow.  She  has  no  ear  for  music, 
or  language,  or  anything  else.  It  would  be  much 
better  for  her  to  be  ignorant,  mamma:  it  is  her 
role,  she  would  do  it  well." 

"  That  is  a  hard  thing  to  say  of  your  poor  sister, 
Gwendolen,  who  is  so  good  to  you,  and  waits  on  you 
hand  and  foot." 


32  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  I  don't  see  why  it  is  liard  to  call  things  by  their 
right  names,  and  put  them  in  their  proper  places. 
The  hardship  is  for  me  to  have  to  waste  my  time 
on  her.    Now  let  me  fasten  up  your  hair,  mamma." 

"  We  must  make  haste ;  your  uncle  and  aunt  will 
be  here  soon.  For  heaven's  sake,  don't  be  scornful  to 
theniy  my  dear  child !  or  to  your  cousin  Anna,  whom 
you  will  always  be  going  out  with.  Do  promise 
me,  Gwendolen.  You  know,  you  can't  expect 
Anna  to  be  equal  to  you." 

"  I  don't  want  her  to  be  equal,"  said  Gwendolen,  n 
with  a  toss  of  her  head  and  a  smile ;  and  the  dis- 
cussion ended  there. 

When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gascoigne  and  their  daughter 
came,  Gwendolen,  far  from  being  scornful,  behaved 
as  prettily  as  possible  to  them.  She  was  introduc- 
ing herself  anew  to  relatives  who  had  not  seen  her 
since  the  comparatively  unfinished  age  of  sixteen, 
and  she  was  anxious  —  no,  not  anxious,  but  resolved, 
—  that  they  should  admire  her. 

Mrs.  Gascoigne  bore  a  family  likeness  to  her 
sister ;  but  she  was  darker  and  slighter,  her  face 
was  unworn  by  grief,  her  movements  were  less 
languid,  her  expression  more  alert  and  critical  as 
that  of  a  rector's  wife  bound  to  exert  a  beneficent 
authority.  Their  closest  resemblance  lay  in  a  non- 
resistant  disposition,  inclined  to  imitation  and 
obedience ;  but  this,  owing  to  the  difference  in 
their  circumstances,  had  led  them  to  very  differ- 
ent issues.  The  younger  sister  had  been  indiscreet, 
or, at  least,  unfortunate  in  her  marriages;  the  elder 
believed  herself  the  most  enviable  of  wives,  and 
her  pliancy  had  ended  in  her  sometimes  taking 
shapes  of  surprising  definiteness.  Many  of  her 
opinions,  such  as  those  on  church  government  and 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  33 

the  character  of  Archbishop  Laud,  seemed  too 
decided  under  every  alteration  to  have  been  arrived 
at  otherwise  than  by  a  wifely  receptiveness.  And 
there  was  much  to  encourage  trust  in  her  husband's 
authority.  He  had  some  agreeable  virtues,  some 
striking  advantages;  and  the  failings  that  were 
imputed  to  him  all  leaned  towards  the  side  of 
success. 

One  of  his  advantages  was  a  fine  person,  which 
perhaps  was  even  more  impressive  at  fifty-seven 
than  it  had  been  earlier  in  life.  There  were  no 
distinctively  clerical  lines  in  the  face,  no  official 
reserve  or  ostentatious  benignity  of  expression,  no 
tricks  of  starchiness  or  of  affected  ease:  in  his 
Inverness  cape  he  could  not  have  been  identified 
except  as  a  gentleman  with  handsome  dark  features, 
a  nose  which  began  with  an  intention  to  be  aquiline 
but  suddenly  became  straight,  and  iron-gray  hair. 
Perhaps  he  owed  this  freedom  from  the  sort  of 
professional  make-up  which  penetrates  skin  tones 
and  gestures  and  defies  all  drapery,  to  the  fact  that 
he  had  once  been  Captain  Gaskin,  having  taken 
orders  and  a  diphthong  but  shortly  before  his 
engagement  to  Miss  Armyn.  If  any  one  had 
objected  that  his  preparation  for  the  clerical  func- 
tion was  inadequate,  his  friends  might  have  asked 
who  made  a  better  figure  in  it,  who  preached  better 
or  had  more  authority  in  his  parish  ?  He  had  a 
native  gift  for  administration,  being  tolerant  both 
of  opinions  and  conduct,  because  he  felt  himself 
able  to  overrule  them,  and  was  free  from  the 
irritations  of  conscious  feebleness.  He  smiled 
pleasantly  at  the  foible  of  a  taste  which  he  did 
not  share,  —  at  floriculture  or  antiquarianism,  for 
example,  which  were  much  in  vogue  among  his 
VOL.  I.  —  3 


34  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

fellow-clergymen  in  the  diocese:  for  himself,  he 
preferred  following  the  history  of  a  campaign,  or 
divining  from  his  knowledge  of  Nesselrode's  motives 
what  would  have  been  his  conduct  if  our  cabinet 
had  taken  a  different  course.  Mr.  Gascoigne's  tone 
of  thinking  after  some  long-quieted  fluctuations  had 
become  ecclesiastical  rather  than  theological;  not 
the  modern  Anglican,  but  what  he  would  have 
called  sound  English,  free  from  nonsense :  such  as 
became  a  man  who  looked  at  a  national  religion 
by  daylight,  and  saw  it  in  its  relations  to  other 
things.  No  clerical  magistrate  had  greater  weight 
at  sessions,  or  less  of  mischievous  impracticableness 
in  relation  to  worldly  affairs.  Indeed,  the  worst 
imputation  thrown  out  against  him  was  worldli- 
ness:  it  could  not  be  proved  that  he  forsook  the 
less  fortunate,  but  it  was  not  to  be  denied  that  the 
friendships  he  cultivated  were  of  a  kind  likely 
to  be  useful  to  the  father  of  six  sons  and  two 
daughters ;  and  bitter  observers  —  for  in  Wessex, 
say  ten  years  ago,  there  were  persons  whose  bitter- 
ness may  now  seem  incredible — remarked  that  the 
colour  of  his  opinions  had  changed  in  consistency 
with  this  principle  of  action.  But  cheerful,  success- 
ful worldliness  has  a  false  air  of  being  more  selfish 
than  the  acrid,  unsuccessful  kind,  whose  secret 
history  is  summed  up  in  the  terrible  words, "Sold, 
but  not  paid  for." 

Gwendolen  wondered  that  she  had  not  better 
remembered  how  very  fine  a  man  her  uncle  was ; 
but  at  the  age  of  sixteen  she  was  a  less  capable  and 
more  indifferent  judge.  At  present  it  was  a  matter 
of  extreme  interest  to  her  that  slie  was  to  have  the 
near  countenance  of  a  dignified  male  relative,  and 
that  the  family  life  would  cease  to  be  entirely,  in- 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  35 

sipidly  feminine.  She  did  not  intend  that  her  uncle 
should  control  her,  but  she  saw  at  once  that  it  would 
be  altogether  agreeable  to  her  that  he  should  be 
proud  of  introducing  her  as  his  niece.  And  there 
was  every  sign  of  his  being  likely  to  feel  that  pride. 
He  certainly  looked  at  her  with  admiration  as  he 
said,  — 

"You  have  outgrown  Anna,  my  dear,"  putting 
his  arm  tenderly  round  his  daughter,  whose  shy 
face  was  a  tiny  copy  of  his  own,  and  drawing  her 
forward.  "  She  is  not  so  old  as  you  by  a  year,  but 
her  growing  days  are  certainly  over.  I  hope  you 
will  be  excellent  companions." 

He  did  give  a  comparing  glance  at  his  daugh- 
ter, but  if  he  saw  her  inferiority,  he  might  also  see 
that  Anna's  timid  appearance  and  miniature  figure 
must  appeal  to  a  different  taste  from  that  which 
was  attracted  by  Gwendolen,  and  that  the  girls 
could  hardly  be  rivals.  Gwendolen,  at  least,  was 
aware  of  this,  and  kissed  her  cousin  with  real  cor- 
diality as  well  as  grace,  saying :  "  A  companion  is 
just  what  I  want.  I  am  so  glad  we  are  come  to 
live  here.  And  mamma  will  be  much  happier  now 
she  is  near  you,  aunt." 

The  aunt  trusted  indeed  that  it  would  be  so,  and 
felt  it  a  blessing  that  a  suitable  home  had  been 
vacant  in  their  uncle's  parish.  Then,  of  course, 
notice  had  to  be  taken  of  the  four  other  girls,  whom 
Gwendolen  had  always  felt  to  be  superfluous :  all 
of  a  girlish  average  that  made  four  units  utterly 
unimportant,  and  yet  from  her  earliest  days  an  ob- 
trusive influential  fact  in  her  life.  She  was  con- 
scious of  having  been  much  kinder  to  them  than 
could  have  been  expected.  And  it  was  evident  to 
her  that  her  uncle  and  aunt  also  felt  it  a  pity  there 


36  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

were  so  many  girls,  —  what  rational  person  could 
feel  otherwise,  except  poor  mamma,  who  never  would 
see  how  Alice  set  up  her  shoulders  and  lifted  her 
eyebrows  till  she  had  no  forehead  left,  how  Bertha 
and  Fanny  whispered  and  tittered  together  about 
everything,  or  how  Isabel  was  always  listening  and 
staring  and  forgetting  where  she  was,  and  treading 
on  the  toes  of  her  suffering  elders  ? 

"You  have  brothers,  Anna,"  said  Gwendolen, 
while  the  sisters  were  being  noticed.  "  I  think  you 
are  enviable  there." 

"  Yes,"  said  Anna,  simply.  "  I  am  very  fond  of 
them ;  but  of  course  their  education  is  a  great  anxi- 
ety to  papa.  He  used  to  say  they  made  me  a  tom- 
boy. I  really  was  a  great  romp  with  Rex.  I  think 
you  will  like  Hex.  He  will  come  home  before 
Christmas." 

"  I  "remember  I  used  to  think  you  rather  wild  and 
shy  ;  but  it  is  difficult  now  to  imagine  you  a  romp," 
said  Gwendolen,  smiling. 

"  Of  course  I  am  altered  now ;  I  am  come  out, 
and  all  that.  But  in  reality  I  like  to  go  blackberry- 
ing  with  Edwy  and  Lotta  as  well  as  ever.  I  am 
not  very  fond  of  going  out ;  but  I  dare  say  I  shall 
like  it  better  now  you  will  be  often  with  me.  I  am 
not  at  all  clever,  and  I  never  know  what  to  say.  It 
seems  so  useless  to  say  what  everybody  knows,  and  I 
can  think  of  nothing  else,  except  what  papa  says." 

"  I  shall  like  going  out  with  you  very  much,"  said 
Gwendolen,  well  disposed  towards  this  naive  cousin. 
"  Are  you  fond  of  riding  ? " 

"Yes,  but  we  have  only  one  Shetland  pony 
amongst  us.  Papa  says  he  can't  afford  more,  be- 
sides the  carriage-horses  and  his  own  nag ;  he  has 
60  many  expenses." 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  37 

"I  intend  to  have  a  horse  and  ride  a  great  deal 
now,"  said  Gwendolen,  in  a  tone  of  decision,  "  Is 
the  society  pleasant  in  this  neighbourhood  ? " 

"  Papa  says  it  is,  very.  There  are  the  clergymen 
all  about,  you  know ;  and  the  Quallons,  and  the 
Arrowpoints,  and  Lord  Bracken shaw,  and  Sir  Hugo 
Mallinger's  place,  where  there  is  nobody — that's 
very  nice,  because  we  make  picnics  there  —  and 
two  or  three  families  at  Wanchester;  oh,  and  old 
Mrs.  Vulcany  at  Nuttingwood,  and  —  " 

But  Anna  was  relieved  of  this  tax  on  her  descrip- 
tive powers  by  the  announcement  of  dinner,  and 
Gwendolen's  question  was  soon  indirectly  answered 
by  her  uncle,  who  dwelt  much  on  the  advantages 
he  had  secured  for  them  in  getting  a  place  like 
Ofifendene.  Except  the  rent  it  involved  no  more 
expense  than  an  ordinary  house  at  Wanchester 
would  have  done. 

"  And  it  is  always  worth  while  to  make  a  little 
sacrifice  for  a  good  style  of  house,"  said  Mr.  Gas- 
coigne,  in  his  easy,  pleasantly  confident  tone,  which 
made  the  world  in  general  seem  a  very  manageable 
place  of  residence  ;  "  especially  where  there  is  only 
a  lady  at  the  head.  All  the  best  people  will  call 
upon  you  ;  and  you  need  give  no  expensive  dinners. 
Of  course  I  have  to  spend  a  good  deal  in  that  way  ; 
it  is  a  large  item.  But  then  I  get  my  house  for 
nothing.  If  I  had  to  pay  three  hundred  a-year  for 
my  house  I  could  not  keep  a  table.  My  boys  are 
too  great  a  drain  on  me.  You  are  better  ofif  than 
we  are,  in  proportion  ;  there  is  no  great  drain  on 
you  now,  after  your  house  and  carriage." 

"  I  assure  you,  Fanny,  now  the  children  are  grow- 
ing up,  I  am  obliged  to  cut  and  contrive,"  said  Mrs. 
Gascoigne.     "  I  am  not  a  good  manager  by  nature, 


38  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

but  Henry  has  taught  me.  He  is  wonderful  for 
making  the  best  of  everything ;  he  allows  himself 
no  extras,  and  gets  his  curates  for  nothing.  It  is 
rather  hard  that  he  has  not  been  made  a  prebendary 
or  something,  as  others  have  been,  considering  the 
friends  he  has  made,  and  the  need  there  is  for  men 
of  moderate  opinions  in  all  respects.  If  the  Church 
is  to  keep  its  position,  ability  and  character  ought 
to  tell." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Nancy,  you  forget  the  old  story,  — 
thank  Heaven,  there  are  three  hundred  as  good  as  I. 
And  ultimately  we  shall  have  no  reason  to  com- 
plain, I  am  pretty  sure.  There  could  hardly  be  a 
more  thorough  friend  than  Lord  Brackenshaw, — 
your  landlord,  you  know,  Fanny.  Lady  Bracken- 
shaw will  call  upon  you.  And  I  have  spoken  for 
Gwendolen  to  be  a  member  of  our  Archery  Club,  — 
the  Brackenshaw  Archery  Club,  —  the  most  select 
thing  anywhere.  That  is,  if  she  has  no  objection," 
added  Mr,  Gascoigne,  looking  at  Gwendolen  with 
pleasant  irony. 

"  I  should  like  it,  of  all  things,"  said  Gwendolen. 
"  There  is  nothing  I  enjoy  more  than  taking  aim  — 
and  hitting,"  she  ended,  with  a  pretty  nod  and  smile. 

"Our  Anna,  poor  child,  is  too  short-sighted  for 
archery.  But  I  consider  myself  a  first-rate  shot, 
and  you  shall  practise  with  me.  I  must  make  you 
an  accomplished  archer  before  our  great  meeting 
in  July.  In  fact,  as  to  neighbourhood,  you  could 
hardly  be  better  placed.  There  are  the  Arrowpoints, 
—  they  are  some  of  our  best  people.  Miss  Arrow- 
point  is  a  delightful  girl,  —  she  has  been  presented  at 
Court.  They  have  a  magnificent  place,  —  Quetcham 
Hall,  —  worth  seeing  in  point  of  art ;  and  their  par- 
ties, to  which  you  are  sure  to  be  invited,  are  the 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  39 

best  things  of  the  sort  we  have.  The  archdeacon 
is  intimate  there,  and  they  have  always  a  good  kind 
of  people  staying  in  the  house.  Mrs.  Arrowpoint  is 
peculiar,  certainly,  —  something  of  a  caricature,  in 
fact,  —  but  well-meaning.  And  Miss  Arrowpoint  is 
as  nice  as  possible.  It  is  not  all  young  ladies  who 
have  mothers  as  handsome  and  graceful  as  yours 
and  Anna's." 

Mrs.  Davilow  smiled  faintly  at  this  little  com- 
pliment ;  but  the  husband  and  wife  looked  affection- 
ately at  each  other,  and  Gwendolen  thought,  "My 
uncle  and  aunt,  at  least,  are  happy :  they  are  not 
dull  and  dismal."  Altogether  she  felt  satisfied  with 
her  prospects  at  Offendene,  as  a  great  improvement 
on  anything  she  had  known.  Even  the  cheap  cu- 
rates, she  incidentally  learned,  were  almost  always 
young  men  of  family  ;  and  Mr.  Middleton,  the  actual 
curate,  was  said  to  be  quite  an  acquisition :  it  was 
only  a  pity  he  was  so  soon  to  leave. 

But  there  was  one  point  which  she  was  so  anxious 
to  gain  that  she  could  not  allow  the  evening  to  pass 
without  taking  her  measures  towards  securing  it. 
Her  mamma,  she  knew,  intended  to  submit  entirely 
to  her  uncle's  judgment  with  regard  to  expenditure ; 
and  the  submission  was  not  merely  prudential,  for 
Mrs.  Davilow,  conscious  that  she  had  always  been 
seen  under  a  cloud  as  poor  dear  Fanny,  who  had 
made  a  sad  blunder  with  her  second  marriage,  felt 
a  hearty  satisfaction  in  being  frankly  and  cordially 
identified  with  her  sister's  family,  and  in  having  her 
affairs  canvassed  and  managed  with  an  authority 
which  presupposed  a  genuine  interest.  Thus  the 
question  of  a  suitable  saddle-horse,  which  had  been 
sufficiently  discussed  with  mamma,  had  to  be  re- 
ferred to  Mr.  Gascoigne ;  and  after  Gwendolen  had 


40  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

played  on  the  piano,  which  had  been  provided  from 
Wanchester,  had  sung  to  her  hearers'  admiration, 
and  had  induced  her  uncle  to  join  her  in  a  duet,  — 
what  more  softening  influence  than  this  on  any 
uncle  who  would  have  sung  finely  if  his  time  had 
not  been  too  much  taken  up  by  graver  matters  ? 
—  she  seized  the  opportune  moment  for  saying, 
"  Mamma,  you  have  not  spoken  to  my  uncle  about 
my  riding." 

"  Gwendolen  desires  above  all  things  to  have  a 
horse  to  ride,  — a  pretty,  light  lady's  horse,"  said 
Mrs,  Davilow,  looking  at  Mr.  Gascoigne.  "  Do 
you  think  we  can  manage  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Gascoigne  projected  his  lower  lip  and  lifted 
his  handsome  eyebrows  sarcastically  at  Gwendolen, 
who  had  seated  herself  with  much  grace  on  the 
elbow  of  her  mamma's  chair. 

"  We  could  lend  her  the  pony  sometimes, "  said 
Mrs.  Gascoigne,  watching  her  husband's  face,  and 
feeling  quite  ready  to  disapprove  if  he  did. 

"  That  might  be  inconveniencing  others,  aunt, 
and  would  be  no  pleasure  to  me.  I  cannot  endure 
ponies,"  said  Gwendolen.  "I  would  rather  give 
up  some  other  indulgence  and  have  a  horse. ' 
(Was  there  ever  a  young  lady  or  gentleman  not 
ready  to  give  up  an  unspecified  indulgence  for  the 
sake  of  the  favourite  one  specified  ? ) 

"  She  rides  so  well.  She  has  had  lessons,  and 
the  riding-master  said  she  had  so  good  a  seat  and 
hand  she  might  be  trusted  with  any  mount, "  said 
Mrs.  Davilow,  who,  even  if  she  had  not  wished 
her  darling  to  have  the  horse,  would  not  have 
dared  to  be  lukewarm  in  trying  to  get  it  for  her, 

"  There  is  the  price  of  the  horse,  —  a  good  sixty 
with  the  best  chance,  and  then  his  keep, "  said  Mr. 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  4t 

Gascoigne,  in  a  tone  which,  though  demurring, 
betrayed  the  inward  presence  of  something  that 
favoured  the  demand.  "  There  are  the  carriage- 
horses,  already  a  heavy  item.  And  remember  what 
you  ladies  cost  in  toilet  now.  " 

"  I  really  wear  nothing  but  two  black  dresses, " 
said  Mrs.  Davilow,  hastily.  "  And  the  younger 
girls,  of  course,  require  no  toilet  at  present.  Be- 
sides, Gwendolen  will  save  me  so  much  by  giving 
her  sisters  lessons."  Here  Mrs.  Davilow's  delicate 
cheek  showed  a  rapid  blush.  "  If  it  were  not  for 
that,  I  must  really  have  a  more  expensive  gover- 
ness, and  masters  besides. " 

Gwendolen  felt  some  anger  with  her  mamma, 
but  carefully  concealed  it. 

"  That  is  good,  —  that  is  decidedly  good, "  said 
Mr.  Gascoigne,  heartily,  looking  at  his  wife.  And 
Gwendolen,  who,  it  must  be  owned,  was  a  deep 
young  lady,  suddenly  moved  away  to  the  other 
end  of  the  long  drawing-room,  and  busied  herself 
with  arranging  pieces  of  music. 

"  The  dear  child  has  had  no  indulgences,  no 
pleasures, "  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  in  a  pleading  un- 
dertone. "  I  feel  the  expense  is  rather  imprudent 
in  this  first  year  of  our  settling.  But  she  really 
needs  the  exercise,  —  she  needs  cheering.  And  if 
you  were  to  see  her  on  horseback,  it  is  something 
splendid.  " 

"  It  is  what  we  could  not  afford  for  Anna, "  said 
Mrs.  Gascoigne.  "  But  she,  dear  child,  would 
ride  Lotta's  donkey,  and  think  it  good  enough. " 
(Anna  was  absorbed  in  a  game  with  Isabel,  who 
had  hunted  out  an  old  backgammon-board,  and  had 
begged  to  sit  up  an  extra  hour.) 

"  Certainly,    a   fine   woman   never   looks   better 


42  DANIEL  BERONDA. 

than  on  horseback, '  said  Mr.  Gascoigne.  "  And 
Gwendolen  has  the  figure  for  it.  I  don't  say  the 
thing  should  not  be  considered. " 

"  We  might  try  it  for  a  time,  at  all  events.  It 
can  be  given  up,  if  necessary, "  said  Mrs.  Davilow. 

"  Well,  I  will  consult  Lord  Brackenshaw's  head 
groom.  He  is  my  fidus  Achates  in  the  horsey 
way. " 

"  Thanks, "  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  much  relieved. 
"  You  are  very  kind. " 

"  That  he  always  is, "  said  Mrs.  Gascoigne.  And 
later  that  night,  when  she  and  her  husband  were 
in  private,  she  said,  — 

"  I  thought  you  were  almost  too  indulgent  about 
the  horse  for  Gwendolen.  She  ought  not  to  claim 
so  much  more  than  your  own  daughter  would  think 
of.  Especially  before  we  see  how  Fanny  manages 
on  her  income.  And  you  really  have  enough  to 
do  without  taking  all  this  trouble  on  yourself. " 

"  My  dear  Nancy,  one  must  look  at  things  from 
every  point  of  view.  This  girl  is  really  worth 
some  expense:  you  don't  often  see  her  equal.  She 
ought  to  make  a  first-rate  marriage,  and  I  should 
not  be  doing  my  duty  if  I  spared  my  trouble  in 
helping  her  forward.  You  know  yourself  she  has 
been  under  a  disadvantage  with  such  a  father-in- 
law,  and  a  second  family,  keeping  her  always  in 
the  shade.  I  feel  for  the  girl.  And  I  should  like 
your  sister  and  her  family  now  to  have  the  benefit 
of  your  having  married  rather  a  better  specimen  of 
our  kind  than  she  did.  " 

"  Rather  better !  I  should  think  so.  However, 
it  is  for  me  to  be  grateful  that  you  will  take  so 
much  on  your  shoulders  for  the  sake  of  my  sister 
and  her  children.     I  am  sure  I  would  not  grudge 


THE  SrOTLED  CHILD.  43 

anything  to  poor  Fanny.  But  there  is  one  thing 
I  have  been  thinking  of,  though  you  have  never 
mentioned  it. " 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  boys.  I  hope  they  will  not  be  falling  in 
love  with  Gwendolen. " 

"  Don't  presuppose  anything  of  the  kind,  my 
dear,  and  there  will  be  no  danger.  Eex  will  never 
be  at  home  for  long  together,  and  Warham  is  going 
to  India.  It  is  the  wiser  plan  to  take  it  for 
granted  that  cousins  will  not  fall  in  love.  If  you 
begin  with  precautions,  the  affair  will  come  in 
spite  of  them.  One  must  not  undertake  to  act  for 
Providence  in  these  matters,  which  can  no  more 
be  held  under  the  hand  than  a  brood  of  chickens. 
The  boys  will  have  nothing,  and  Gwendolen  will 
have  nothing.  They  can't  marry.  At  the  worst 
there  would  only  be  a  little  crying,  and  you  can't 
save  boys  and  girls  from  that. " 

Mrs.  Gascoigne's  mind  was  satisfied :  if  any- 
thing did  happen,  there  was  the  comfort  of  feeling 
that  her  husband  would  know  what  was  to  be  done 
and  would  have  the  energy  to  do  it. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Gorgihus.  .  .  .  Je  te  dia  que  le  mariage  est  nne  chose  sainte  et 
sacree,  et  qae  c'est  faire  en  hunuetes  gens,  que  de  debuter  par  la. 

Madelon.  Mon  Dieu !  que  si  tout  lo  moude  vous  ressemblait, 
un  romau  serait  bientot  Hni !  I^a  belle  chose  que  ce  serait,  si 
d'abord  Cyrus  epousait  Mandane,  et  qu'Aronce  de  plain-pied  fflt 
marie'  k  Clelie!  .  .  .  Laissez  nous  faire  k  loisir  le  tissu  de  notre 
romau,  et  u'eu  pressez  pas  taut  la  couclusion. 

MoLii:R£  :  Lea  PrAieuses  Ridicules, 

It  would  be  a  little  hard  to  blame  the  Eector  of 
Pennicote  that  in  the  course  of  looking  at  things 
from  every  point  of  view,  he  looked  at  Gwendolen 
as  a  girl  likely  to  make  a  brilliant  marriage.  Why 
should  he  be  expected  to  differ  from  his  contempo- 
raries in  this  matter,  and  wish  his  niece  a  worse 
end  of  her  charming  maidenhood  than  they  would 
approve  as  the  best  possible  ?  It  is  rather  to  be 
set  down  to  his  credit  that  his  feelings  on  the  sub- 
ject were  entirely  good-natured.  And  in  consider- 
ing the  relation  of  means  to  ends,  it  would  have 
been  mere  folly  to  have  been  guided  by  the  excep- 
tional and  idyllic,  —  to  have  recommended  that 
Gwendolen  should  wear  a  gown  as  shabby  as 
Griselda's  in  order  that  a  marquis  might  fall  in 
love  with  her,  or  to  have  insisted  that  since  a  fair 
maiden  was  to  be  sought,  she  should  keep  herself 
out  of  the  way.  Mr.  Gascoigne's  calculations 
were  of  the  kind  called  rational,  and  he  did  not 
even  think  of  getting  a  too  frisky  horse  in  order 
that  Gwendolen  might  be  threatened  with  an  ac- 
cident  and    be   rescued   by  a  man    of    property. 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  45 

He  wished  his  niece  well,  and  he  meant  her  to 
be  seen  to  advantage  in  the  best  society  of  the 
neighbourhood. 

Her  uncle's  intention  fell  in  perfectly  with 
Gwendolen's  own  wishes.  But  let  no  one  suppose 
that  she  also  contemplated  a  brilliant  marriage  as 
the  direct  end  of  her  witching  the  world  with  her 
grace  on  horseback,  or  with  any  other  accomplish- 
ment. That  she  was  to  be  married  some  time  or 
other  she  would  have  felt  obliged  to  admit;  and 
that  her  marriage  would  not  be  of  a  middling  kind, 
such  as  most  girls  were  contented  with,  she  felt 
quietly,  unargumentatively  sure.  But  her  thoughts 
never  dwelt  on  marriage  as  the  fulfilment  of  her 
ambition ;  the  dramas  in  which  she  imagined  her- 
self a  heroine  were  not  wrought  up  to  that  close. 
To  be  very  much  sued  or  hopelessly  sighed  for  as  a 
bride  was  indeed  an  indispensable  and  agreeable 
guarantee  of  womanly  power ;  but  to  become  a 
wife  and  wear  all  the  domestic  fetters  of  that  con- 
dition, was  on  the  whole  a  vexatious  necessity. 
Her  observation  of  matrimony  had  inclined  her  to 
think  it  rather  a  dreary  state,  in  which  a  woman 
could  not  do  what  she  liked,  had  more  children  than 
were  desirable,  was  consequently  dull,  and  became 
irrevocably  immersed  in  humdrum.  Of  course 
marriage  was  social  promotion ;  she  could  not  look 
forward  to  a  single  life ;  but  promotions  have  some- 
times to  be  taken  with  bitter  herbs,  —  a  peerage 
will  not  quite  do  instead  of  leadership  to  the  man 
who  meant  to  lead ;  and  this  delicate-limbed  sylph 
of  twenty  meant  to  lead.  For  such  passions  dwell 
in  feminine  breasts  also.  In  Gwendolen's,  how- 
ever, they  dwelt  among  strictly  feminine  furniture, 
and  had  no  disturbing  reference  to  the  advance- 


46  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

ment  of  learning  or  the  balance  of  the  constitution; 
her  knowledge  being  such  as  with  no  sort  of  stand- 
ing-room or  length  of  lever  could  have  been  ex- 
pected to  move  the  world.  She  meant  to  do  what 
was  pleasant  to  herself  in  a  striking  manner;  or 
rather  whatever  she  could  do  so  as  to  strike  others 
with  admiration  and  get  in  that  reflected  way  a 
more  ardent  sense  of  living,  seemed  pleasant  to 
her  fancy. 

"  Gwendolen  will  not  rest  without  having  the 
world  at  her  feet,"  said  Miss  Merry,  the  meek 
governess, — hyperbolical  words  which  have  long 
come  to  carry  the  most  moderate  meanings ;  for 
who  has  not  heard  of  private  persons  having  the 
world  at  their  feet  in  the  shape  of  some  half-dozen 
items  of  flattering  regard  generally  known  in  a 
genteel  suburb  ?  And  words  could  hardly  be  too 
wide  or  vague  to  indicate  the  prospect  that  made 
a  hazy  largeness  about  poor  Gwendolen  on  the 
heights  of  her  young  self-exultation.  Other  people 
allowed  themselves  to  be  made  slaves  of,  and  to 
have  their  lives  blown  hither  and  thither  like 
empty  ships  in  which  no  will  was  present :  it  was 
not  to  be  so  with  her,  she  would  no  longer  be 
sacrificed  to  creatures  worth  less  than  herself,  but 
would  make  the  very  best  of  the  chances  that  life 
offered  her,  and  conquer  circumstance  by  her  ex- 
ceptional cleverness.  Certainly,  to  be  settled  at 
Offendene,  with  the  notice  of  Lady  Brackenshaw, 
the  Archery  Club,  and  invitations  to  dine  with 
the  Arrowpoints,  as  the  highest  lights  in  her 
scenery,  was  not  a  position  that  seemed  to  offer 
remarkable  chances;  but  Gwendolen's  confidence 
lay  chiefly  in  herself.  She  felt  well  equipped  for 
the  mastery  of  life.     With  regard  to  much  in  her 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  47 

lot  hitherto,  she  held  herself  rather  hardly  dealt 
with,  but  as  to  her  "  education  "  she  would  have 
admitted  that  it  had  left  her  under  no  disadvan- 
tages. In  the  schoolroom  her  quick  mind  had 
taken  readily  that  strong  starch  of  unexplained 
rules  and  disconnected  facts  which  saves  ignorance 
from  any  painful  sense  of  limpness;  and  what 
remained  of  all  things  knowable,  she  was  conscious 
of  being  sufficiently  acquainted  with  through 
novels,  plays,  and  poems.  About  her  French  and 
music,  the  two  justifying  accomplishments  of  a 
young  lady,  she  felt  no  ground  for  uneasiness ;  and 
when  to  all  these  qualifications,  negative  and  posi- 
tive, we  add  the  spontaneous  sense  of  capability 
some  happy  persons  are  born  with,  so  that  any 
subject  they  turn  attention  to  impresses  them 
with  their  own  power  of  forming  a  correct  judg-^ 
ment  on  it,  who  can  wonder  if  Gwendolen  felt  ready 
to  manage  her  own  destiny  ? 

There  were  many  subjects  in  the  world  —  per- 
haps the  majority  —  in  which  she  felt  no  interest 
because  they  were  stupid ;  for  subjects  are  apt  to 
appear  stupid  to  the  young  as  light  seems  dim  to 
the  old ;  but  she  would  not  have  felt  at  all  help- 
less in  relation  to  them,  if  they  had  turned  up  in 
conversation.  It  must  be  remembered  that  no  one 
had  disputed  her  power  or  her  general  superiority. 
As  on  the  arrival  at  Offendene,  so  always,  the  first 
thought  of  those  about  her  had  been,  what  will 
Gwendolen  think  ?  —  if  the  footman  trod  heavily 
in  creaking  boots  or  if  the  laundress's  work  was 
unsatisfactory,  the  maid  said,  "  This  will  never  do 
for  Miss  Harleth ;  "  if  the  wood  smoked  in  the 
bedroom  fireplace,  Mrs.  Davilow,  whose  own  weak 
eyes  suffered  much  from  this  inconvenience,  spoke 


48  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

apologetically  of  it  to  Gwendolen.  If,  when  they 
were  under  the  stress  of  travelling,  she  did  not 
appear  at  the  breakfast-table  till  every  one  else 
had  finished,  the  only  question  was,  how  Gwen- 
dolen's coffee  and  toast  should  still  be  of  the  hot- 
test and  crispest ;  and  when  she  appeared  with  her 
freshly  brushed  light-brown  hair  streaming  back- 
ward and  awaiting  her  mamma's  hand  to  coil  it 
up,  her  long  brown  eyes  glancing  bright  as  a  wave- 
washed  onyx  from  under  their  long  lashes,  it  was 
always  she  herself  who  had  to  be  tolerant,  —  to  beg 
that  Alice  who  sat  waiting  on  her  would  not  stick 
up  her  shoulders  in  that  frightful  manner,  and 
that  Isabel  instead  of  pushing  up  to  her  and  ask- 
ing questions  would  go  away  to  Miss  Merry. 

Always  she  was  the  princess  in  exile,  who  in 
time  of  famine  was  to  have  her  breakfast-roll  made 
of  the  finest-bolted  flour  from  the  seven  thin  ears 
of  wheat,  and  in  a  general  decampment  was  to 
have  her  silver  fork  kept  out  of  the  baggage.  How 
was  this  to  be  accounted  for?  The  answer  may 
seem  to  lie  quite  on  the  surface,  —  in  her  beauty, 
a  certain  unusualness  about  her,  a  decision  of  will 
which  made  itself  felt  in  her  graceful  movements 
and  clear  unhesitating  tones,  so  that  if  she  came 
into  the  room  on  a  rainy  day  when  everybody  else 
was  flaccid  and  the  use  of  things  in  general  was 
not  apparent  to  them,  there  seemed  to  be  a  sudden, 
sufficient  reason  for  keeping  up  the  forms  of  life ; 
and  even  the  waiters  at  hotels  showed  the  more 
alacrity  in  doing  away  with  crumbs  and  creases 
and  dregs  with  struggling  flies  in  them.  This 
potent  charm,  added  to  the  fact  that  she  was  the 
eldest  daughter,  towards  whom  her  mamma  had 
always  been  in  an  apologetic  state  of  mind  for  the 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  49 

evils  brought  on  her  by  a  stepfather,  may  seem  so 
full  a  reason  for  Gwendolen's  domestic  empire,  that 
to  look  for  any  other  would  be  to  ask  the  reason 
of  daylight  when  the  sun  is  shining.     But  beware 
of  arriving  at  conclusions  without  comparison.     I 
remember  having  seen  the  same  assiduous,  apolo- 
getic attention  awarded  to  persons  who  were  not 
at  all  beautiful,  or  unusual,  whose  firmness  showed 
itself  in  no  very  graceful  or  euphonious  way,  and 
who  were  not  eldest  daughters  with  a  tender,  timid 
mother,  compunctious  at  having  subjected  them  to 
inconveniences.     Some  of  them  were  a  very  com- 
mon sort  of  men.     And  the  only  point  of  resem- 
blance among  them  all  was  a  strong  determination 
to  have  what  was  pleasant,  with  a  total  fearless- 
ness in  making  themselves  disagreeable  or  danger- 
ous when  they  did  not  get  it.      Who  is  so  much 
cajoled  and  served  with  trembling  by  the  weak 
females  of  a  household  as  the  unscrupulous  male, 
—  capable,    if  he  has  not  free  way  at  home,    of 
going  and  doing  worse  elsewhere  ?     Hence  I  am 
forced  to  doubt  whether  even  without  her  potent 
charm  and  peculiar  filial  position  Gwendolen  might 
not  still  have  played  the  queen  in  exile,  if  only 
she  had  kept  her  inborn  energy  of  egoistic  desire, 
and  her  power  of  inspiring  fear  as  to  what  she 
might  say  or  do.      However,   she  had  the  charm, 
and  those  who  feared  her  were  also  fond  of  her; 
the   fear   and    the    fondness   being   perhaps   both 
heightened  by  what  may  be  called  the  iridescence 
of  her  character,  —  the  play  of  various,  nay,  con- 
trary tendencies.     For   Macbeth 's   rhetoric  about 
the  impossibility  of  being  many  opposite  things  in 
the  same  moment,  referred  to  the  clumsy  necessi- 
ties of  action  and  not  to  the  subtler  possibilities  of 

VOL.  I.  —  4 


so  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

feeling.  We  cannot  speak  a  loyal  word  and  be 
meanly  silent,  we  cannot  kill  and  not  kill  in  the 
same  moment ;  but  a  moment  is  room  wide  enough 
for  the  loyal  and  mean  desire,  for  the  outlash  of  a 
murderous  thought  and  the  sharp  backward  stroke 
of  repentance. 


CHAPTEE  V. 

Her  wit 
Values  itself  so  highly,  that  to  her 
All  matter  else  seems  weak. 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

Gwendolen's  reception  in  the  neighbourhood  ful- 
filled her  uncle's  expectations.  From  Bracken- 
shaw  Castle  to  the  Firs  at  Wanchester,  where  Mr. 
Quallon  the  banker  kept  a  generous  house,  she  was 
welcomed  with  manifest  admiration,  and  even 
those  ladies  who  did  not  quite  like  her,  felt  a 
comfort  in  having  a  new,  striking  girl  to  invite ; 
for  hostesses  who  entertain  much  must  make  up 
their  parties  as  ministers  make  up  their  cabinets, 
on  grounds  other  than  personal  liking.  Then,  in 
order  to  have  Gwendolen  as  a  guest,  it  was  not 
necessary  to  ask  any  one  who  was  disagreeable,  for 
Mrs.  Davilow  always  made  a  quiet,  picturesque 
figure  as  a  chaperon,  and  Mr.  Gascoigne  was  every- 
where in  request  for  his  own  sake. 

Among  the  houses  where  Gwendolen  was  not 
quite  liked,  and  yet  invited,  was  Quetcham  Hall. 
One  of  her  first  invitations  was  to  a  large  dinner- 
party there,  which  made  a  sort  of  general  intro- 
duction for  her  to  the  society  of  the  neighbourhood ; 
for  in  a  select  party  of  thirty,  and  of  well-composed 
proportions  as  to  age,  few  visitable  families  could 
be  entirely  left  out.  No  youthful  figure  there  was 
comparable  to  Gwendolen's  as  she  passed  through 


52  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

the  long  suite  of  rooms  adorned  with  light  and 
flowers,  and  visible  at  first  as  a  slim  figure  floating 
along  in  white  drapery,  approached  through  one 
wide  doorway  after  another  into  fuller  illumination 
and  definiteness.  She  had  never  had  that  sort  of 
promenade  before,  and  she  felt  exultingly  that  it 
befitted  her :  any  one  looking  at  her  for  the  first 
time  might  have  supposed  that  long  galleries  and 
lackeys  had  always  been  a  matter  of  course  in  her 
life ;  while  her  cousin  Anna,  who  was  really  more 
familiar  with  these  things,  felt  almost  as  much 
embarrassed  as  a  rabbit  suddenly  deposited  in  that 
well-lit  space. 

"  Who  is  that  with  Gascoigne  ?  "  said  the  arch- 
deacon, neglecting  a  discussion  of  military  manoeu- 
vres on  which,  as  a  clergyman,  he  was  naturally 
appealed  to.  And  his  son,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  —  a  hopeful  young  scholar,  who  had  already 
suggested  some  "  not  less  elegant  than  ingenious  ' 
emendations  of  Greek  texts,  —  said  nearly  at  the 
same  time,  "  By  George !  who  is  that  girl  with  the 
awfully  well-set  head  and  jolly  figure  ? " 

But  to  a  mind  of  general  benevolence,  wishing 
everybody  to  look  well,  it  was  rather  exasperating 
to  see  how  Gwendolen  eclipsed  others:  how  even 
the  handsome  Miss  Lawe,  explained  to  be  the 
daughter  of  Lady  Lawe,  looked  suddenly  broad, 
heavy,  and  inanimate ;  and  how  Miss  Arrowpoint, 
unfortunately  also  dressed  in  white,  immediately 
resembled  a  carte-de-visite  in  which  one  would 
fancy  the  skirt  alone  to  have  been  charged  for. 
Since  Miss  Arrowpoint  was  generally  liked  for  the 
amiable  unpretending  way  in  which  she  wore  her 
fortunes,  and  made  a  softening  screen  for  the  oddi- 
ties of  her  mother,  there  seemed  to  be  some  unfit- 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  S3 

ness  in  Gwendolen's  looking  so  much  more  like  a 
person  of  social  importance. 

"  She  is  not  really  so  handsome  if  you  come  to 
examine  her  features, "  said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  later 
in  the  evening,  confidentially  to  Mrs.  Vulcany. 
"  It  is  a  certain  style  she  has,  which  produces 
a  great  effect  at  first,  but  afterwards  she  is  less 
agreeable.  " 

In  fact,  Gwendolen,  not  intending  it,  but  in- 
tending the  contrary,  had  offended  her  hostess, 
who,  though  not  a  splenetic  or  vindictive  woman, 
had  her  susceptibilities.  Several  conditions  had 
met  in  the  Lady  of  Quetcham  which  to  the  rea- 
soners  in  that  neighbourhood  seemed  to  have  an 
essential  connection  with  each  other.  It  was  occa- 
sionally recalled  that  she  had  been  the  heiress  of 
a  fortune  gained  by  some  moist  or  dry  business  in 
the  city,  in  order  fully  to  account  for  her  having 
a  squat  figure,  a  harsh  parrot-like  voice,  and  a 
systematically  high  head-dress ;  and  since  these 
points  made  her  externally  rather  ridiculous,  it 
appeared  to  many  only  natural  that  she  should 
have  what  are  called  literary  tendencies.  A  little 
comparison  would  have  shown  that  all  these  points 
are  to  be  found  apart ;  daughters  of  aldermen  being 
often  well -grown  and  well-featured,  pretty  women 
having  sometimes  harsh  or  husky  voices,  and  the 
production  of  feeble  literature  being  found  com- 
patible with  the  most  diverse  forms  of  physique, 
masculine  as  well  as  feminine. 

Gwendolen,  who  had  a  keen  sense  of  absurdity 
in  others,  but  was  kindly  disposed  towards  any 
one  who  could  make  life  agreeable  to  her,  meant 
to  win  Mrs.  Arrowpoint  by  giving  her  an  interest 
and  attention  beyond  what  others  were  probably 


54  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

inclined  to  show.  But  self-confidence  is  apt  to 
address  itself  to  an  imaginary  dulness  in  others ; 
as  people  who  are  well  off  speak  in  a  cajoling  tone 
to  the  poor,  and  those  who  are  in  the  prime  of  life 
raise  their  voice  and  talk  artificially  to  seniors, 
hastily  conceiving  them  to  be  deaf  and  rather 
imbecile.  Gwendolen,  with  all  her  cleverness  and 
purpose  to  be  agreeable,  could  not  escape  that  form 
of  stupidity :  it  followed  in  her  mind,  unreflect- 
ingly, that  because  Mrs.  Arrowpoint  was  ridiculous 
she  was  also  likely  to  be  wanting  in  penetration, 
and  she  went  through  her  little  scenes  without 
suspicion  that  the  various  shades  of  her  behaviour 
were  all  noted. 

"  You  are  fond  of  books  as  well  as  of  music, 
riding,  and  archery,  I  hear, "  Mrs.  Arrowpoint 
said,  going  to  her  for  a  tete-a-tete  in  the  drawing- 
room  after  dinner :  "  Catherine  will  be  very  glad 
to  have  so  sympathetic  a  neighbour.  '  This  little 
speech  might  have  seemed  the  most  graceful  polite- 
ness, spoken  in  a  low  melodious  tone ;  but  with  a 
twang  fatally  loud  it  gave  Gwendolen  a  sense  of  ex- 
ercising patronage  when  she  answered  gracefully, — 

"  It  is  I  who  am  fortunate.  Miss  Arrowpoint 
will  teach  me  what  good  music  is:  I  shall  be 
entirely  a  learner.  I  hear  that  she  is  a  thorough 
musician.  * 

"  Catherine  has  certainly  had  every  advantage. 
We  have  a  first-rate  musician  in  the  house  now, — 
Herr  Klesmer;  perhaps  you  know  all  his  composi- 
tions. You  must  allow  me  to  introduce  him  to 
you.  You  sing,  I  believe.  Catherine  plays  three 
instruments,  but  she  does  not  sing.  I  hope  you 
will  let  us  hear  you.  I  understand  you  are  an 
accomplished  singer. ' 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  5S 

"Oh  no!  —  'die  Kraft  ist  schwach,  allein  die 
Lust  ist  gross, '  as  Mephistopheles  says. " 

"  Ah,  you  are  a  student  of  Goethe.  Young 
ladies  are  so  advanced  now.  I  suppose  you  have 
read  everything.  " 

"  No,  really.  I  shall  be  so  glad  if  you  will  tell 
me  what  to  read.  I  have  been  looking  into  all  the 
books  in  the  library  at  Offendene,  but  there  is 
nothing  readable.  The  -leaves  all  stick  together 
and  smell  musty.  I  wish  I  could  write  books  to 
amuse  myself,  as  you  can !  How  delightful  it 
must  be  to  write  books  after  one's  own  taste  in- 
stead of  reading  other  people's !  Home-made  books 
must  be  so  nice. " 

For  an  instant  Mrs.  Arrowpoint's  glance  was 
a  little  sharper,  but  the  perilous  resemblance  to 
satire  in  the  last  sentence  took  the  hue  of  girlish 
simplicity  when  Gwendolen  added,  — 

"  I  would  give  anything  to  write  a  book !  " 

"  And  why  should  you  not  ? "  said  Mrs.  Arrow- 
point,  encouragingly.  "  You  have  but  to  begin  as 
I  did.  Pen,  ink,  and  paper  are  at  everybody's 
command.  But  I  will  send  you  all  I  have  written 
with  pleasure. " 

"  Thanks.  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  read  your  writ- 
ings. Being  acquainted  with  authors  must  give  a 
peculiar  understanding  of  their  books :  one  would 
be  able  to  tell  then  which  parts  were  funny  and 
which  serious.  I  am  sure  I  often  laugh  in  the 
wrong  place. "  Here  Gwendolen  herself  became 
aware  of  danger,  and  added  quickly,  "  In  Shake- 
speare, you  know,  and  other  great  writers  that  we 
can  never  see.  But  I  always  want  to  know  more 
than  there  is  in  the  books." 

"  If  you  are  interested  in  any  of  my  subjects,  I 


56  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

can  lend  you  many  extra  sheets  in  manuscript," 
said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint, —  while  Gwendolen  felt  her- 
self painfully  in  the  position  of  the  young  lady 
who  professed  to  like  potted  sprats.  "  These  are 
things  I  dare  say  I  shall  publish  eventually :  sev- 
eral friends  have  urged  me  to  do  so,  and  one 
doesn't  like  to  be  obstinate.  My  Tasso,  for  ex- 
ample. —  I  could  have  made  it  twice  the  size. " 

"  I  dote  on  Tasso, "  said  Gwendolen. 

"  Well,  you  shall  have  all  my  papers,  if  you 
like.  So  many,  you  know,  have  written  about 
Tasso ;  but  they  are  all  wrong.  As  to  the  particu- 
lar nature  of  his  madness,  and  his  feelings  for 
Leonora,  and  the  real  cause  of  his  imprisonment, 
and  the  character  of  Leonora,  who,  in  my  opinion, 
was  a  cold-hearted  woman,  else  she  would  have 
married  him  in  spite  of  her  brother, —  they  are  all 
wrong.     I  differ  from  everybody. " 

"  How  very  interesting !  "  said  Gwendolen.  "  I 
like  to  differ  from  everybody ;  I  think  it  is  so 
stupid  to  agree.  That  is  the  worst  of  writing  your 
opinions ;  you  make  people  agree  with  you.  " 

This  speech  renewed  a  slight  suspicion  in  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint,  and  again  her  glance  became  for  a 
moment  examining.  But  Gwendolen  looked  very 
innocent,  and  continued  with  a  docile  air, — 

"  I  know  nothing  of  Tasso  except  the  Gerusa- 
lemme  Liherata,  which  we  read  and  learned  by 
heart  at  school. " 

"  Ah,  his  life  is  more  interesting  than  his  poetry. 
I  have  constructed  the  early  part  of  his  life  as  a 
sort  of  romance.  When  one  thinks  of  his  father 
Bernardo,  and  so  on,  there  is  so  much  that  must 
be  true. " 

"  Imagination   is   often   truer  than    fact, "   said 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  57 

Gwendolen,  decisively,  though  she  could  no  more 
have  explained  these  glib  words  than  if  they  had 
been  Coptic  or  Etruscan,  "  I  shall  be  so  glad  to 
learn  all  about  Tasso,  —  and  his  madness  especially. 
I  suppose  poets  are  always  a  little  mad.  " 

"  To  be  sure, — '  the  poet's  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy 
rolling ;  '  and  somebody  says  of  Marlowe,  — 

*  For  that  fine  madness  still  he  did  maintain 
Which  always  should  possess  the  poet's  brain.'  " 

"  But  it  was  not  always  found  out,  was  it  ?  " 
said  Gwendolen,  innocently.  "  I  suppose  some  of 
them  rolled  their  eyes  in  private.  Mad  people  are 
often  very  cunning. " 

Again  a  shade  flitted  over  Mrs.  Arrowpoint's 
face ;  but  the  entrance  of  the  gentlemen  prevented 
any  immediate  mischief  between  her  and  this  too 
quick  young  lady,  who  had  over-acted  her  naivete. 

"  Ah,  here  comes  Herr  Klesmer, "  said  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint,  rising ;  and  presently  bringing  him  to 
Gwendolen,  she  left  them  to  a  dialogue  which  was 
agreeable  on  both  sides,  Herr  Klesmer  being  a 
felicitous  combination  of  the  German,  the  Sclave, 
and  the  Semite,  with  grand  features,  brown  hair 
floating  in  artistic  fashion,  and  brown  eyes  in 
spectacles.  His  English  had  little  foreignness  ex- 
cept its  fluency ;  and  his  alarming  cleverness  was 
made  less  formidable  just  then  by  a  certain  soften- 
ing air  of  silliness  which  will  sometimes  befall 
even  Genius  in  the  desire  of  being  agreeable  to 
Beauty. 

Music  was  soon  begun.  Miss  Arrowpoint  and 
Herr  Klesmer  played  a  four-handed  piece  on  two 
pianos  which  convinced  the  company  in  general 
that  it  was  long,  and  Gwendolen  in  particular  that 


58  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

the  neutral,  placid-faced  Miss  Arrowpoint  had  a 
mastery  of  the  instrument  which  put  her  own 
execution  out  of  the  question,  — though  she  was 
not  discouraged  as  to  her  often -praised  touch  and 
style.  After  this  every  one  became  anxious  to 
hear  Gwendolen  sing,  especially  Mr.  Arrowpoint ; 
as  was  natural  in  a  host  and  a  perfect  gentleman, 
of  whom  no  one  had  anything  to  say  but  that  he 
had  married  Miss  Guttler,  and  imported  the  best 
cigars;  and  he  led  her  to  the  piano  with  easy 
politeness.  Herr  Klesmer  closed  the  instrument 
in  readiness  for  her,  and  smiled  with  pleasure  at 
her  approach ;  then  placed  himself  at  the  distance 
of  a  few  feet,  so  that  he  could  see  her  as  she  sang. 

Gwendolen  was  not  nervous :  what  she  under- 
took to  do  she  did  without  trembling,  and  singing 
was  an  enjoyment  to  her.  Her  voice  was  a  moder- 
ately powerful  soprano  (some  one  had  told  her  it 
was  like  Jenny  Lind's),  her  ear  good,  and  she  was 
able  to  keep  in  tune,  so  that  her  singing  gave 
pleasure  to  ordinary  hearers,  and  she  had  been 
used  to  unmingled  applause.  She  had  the  rare 
advantage  of  looking  almost  j)rettier  when  she 
was  singing  than  at  other  times,  and  that  Herr 
Klesmer  was  in  front  of  her  seemed  not  disagree- 
able. Her  song,  determined  on  beforehand,  was  a 
favourite  aria  of  Bellini's,  in  which  she  felt  quite 
sure  of  herself. 

"Charming!"  said  Mr.  Arrowpoint,  who  had 
remained  near;  and  the  word  was  echoed  around 
without  more  insincerity  than  we  recognize  in  a 
brotherly  way  as  human.  But  Herr  Klesmer  stood 
like  a  statue, —  if  a  statue  can  be  imagined  in  spec- 
tacles; at  least,  he  was  as  mute  as  a  statue. 
Gwendolen  was  pressed  to  keep  her  seat  and  double 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  59 

the  general  pleasure,  and  she  did  not  wish  to  re- 
fuse ;  but  before  resolving  to  do  so,  she  moved  a 
little  towards  Herr  Klesmer,  saying  with  a  look  of 
smiling  appeal,  "  It  would  be  too  cruel  to  a  great 
musician.  You  cannot  like  to  hear  poor  amateur 
singing. " 

"  No,  truly ;  but  that  makes  nothing, "  said  Herr 
Ivlesmer,  suddenly  speaking  in  .an  odious  German 
fashion  with  staccato  endings,  quite  unobservable 
in  him  before,  and  apparently  depending  on  a 
change  of  mood,  as  Irishmen  resume  their  strong- 
est brogue  when  they  are  fervid  or  quarrelsome. 
"  That  makes  nothing.  It  is  always  acceptable  to 
see  you  sing.  " 

Was  there  ever  so  unexpected  an  assertion  of 
superiority,  at  least  before  the  late  Teutonic  con- 
quest ?  Gwendolen  coloured  deeply,  but,  with  her 
usual  presence  of  mind,  did  not  show  an  ungrace- 
ful resentment  by  moving  away  immediately ;  and 
Miss  Arrowpoint,  who  had  been  near  enough  to 
overhear  (and  also  to  observe  that  Herr  Klesmer 's 
mode  of  looking  at  Gwendolen  was  more  conspicu- 
ously admiring  than  was  quite  consistent  with 
good  taste),  now  with  the  utmost  tact  and  kind- 
ness came  close  to  her  and  said, — 

"  Imagine  what  I  have  to  go  through  with  this 
professor!  He  can  hardly  tolerate  anything  we 
English  do  in  music.  We  can  only  put  up  with 
his  severity,  and  make  use  of  it  to  find  out  the 
worst  that  can  be  said  of  us.  It  is  a  little  comfort 
to  know  that ;  and  one  can  bear  it  when  every  one 
else  is  admiring. " 

"  I  should  be  very  much  obliged  to  him  for  tell- 
ing me  the  worst,"  said  Gwendolen,  recovering 
herself.     "  I  dare  say  I  have  been  extremely  ill 


6o  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

taught,  in  addition  to  having  no  talent  —  only 
liking  for  music. "  This  was  very  well  expressed 
considering  that  it  had  never  entered  her  mind 
before. 

"  Yes,  it  is  true ;  you  have  not  been  well  taught,  * 
said  Herr  Klesmer,  quietly.  Woman  was  dear  to 
him,  but  music  was  dearer.  "  Still  you  are  not 
quite  without  gifts.  You  sing  in  tune,  and  you 
have  a  pretty  fair  organ.  But  you  produce  your 
notes  badly;  and  that  music  which  you  sing  is 
beneath  you.  It  is  a  form  of  melody  which  ex- 
presses a  puerile  state  of  culture,  —  a  dandling,  cant- 
ing, see-saw  kind  of  stuff,  —  the  passion  and  thought 
of  people  without  any  breadth  of  horizon.  There 
is  a  sort  of  self-satisfied  folly  about  every  phrase 
of  such  melody ;  no  cries  of  deep,  mysterious  pas- 
sion,—  no  conflict, —  no  sense  of  the  universal.  It 
makes  men  small  as  they  listen  to  it.  Sing  now 
something  larger.     And  I  shall  see. " 

"Oh,  not  now,  —  by  and  by, "  said  Gwendolen, 
with  a  sinking  of  heart  at  the  sudden  width  of 
horizon  opened  round  her  small  musical  perform- 
ance. For  a  young  lady  desiring  to  lead,  this  first 
encounter  in  her  campaign  was  startling.  But 
she  was  bent  on  not  behaving  foolishly,  and  Miss 
Arrowpoint  helped  her  by  saying,  — 

"  Yes,  by  and  by.  I  always  require  half  an  hour 
to  get  up  my  courage  after  being  criticised  by  Herr 
Klesmer.  We  will  ask  him  to  play  to  us  now :  he 
is  bound  to  show  us  what  is  good  music. " 

To  be  quite  safe  on  this  point,  Herr  Klesmer 
played  a  composition  of  his  own,  a  fantasia  called 
Freudvoll,  Leidvoll,  Gedankenvoll,  — an  extensive 
commentary  on  some  melodic  ideas  not  too  grossly 
evident;  and  he  certainly  fetched  as  much  variety 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  6t 

and  depth  of  passion  out  of  the  piano  as  that  mod- 
erately responsive  instrument  lends  itself  to,  hav- 
ing an  imperious  magic  in  his  fingers  that  seemed  to 
send  a  nerve-thrill  through  ivory  key  and  wooden 
hammer,  and  compel  the  strings  to  make  a  quiver- 
ing, lingering  speech  for  him.  Gwendolen,  in  spite 
of  her  wounded  egoism,  had  fulness  of  nature  enough 
to  feel  the  power  of  this  playing ;  and  it  gradually 
turned  her  inward  sob  of  mortification  into  an  ex- 
citement which  lifted  her  for  the  moment  into  a 
desperate  indifference  about  her  own  doings,  or  at 
least  a  determination  to  get  a  superiority  over  them 
by  laughing  at  them  as  if  they  belonged  to  some- 
body else.  Her  eyes  had  become  brighter,  her 
cheeks  slightly  flushed,  and  her  tongue  ready  for 
any  mischievous  remarks. 

"  I  wish  you  would  sing  to  us  again.  Miss 
Harleth,"  said  young  Clintock,  the  archdeacon's 
classical  son,  who  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  take 
her  to  dinner,  and  came  up  to  renew  conversation 
as  soon  as  Herr  Klesmer's  performance  was  ended. 
"  That  is  the  style  of  music  for  me.  I  never  can 
make  anything  of  this  tip -top  playing.  It  is  like 
a  jar  of  leeches,  where  you  can  never  tell  either 
beginnings  or  endings.  I  could  listen  to  your 
singing  all  day. " 

"  Yes,  we  should  be  glad  of  something  popular 
now,  —  another  song  from  you  would  be  a  relaxa- 
tion,"  said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  who  had  also  come 
near  with  polite  intentions. 

"  That  must  be  because  you  are  in  a  puerile  state 
of  culture,  and  have  no  breadth  of  horizon.  I 
have  just  learned  that.  I  have  been  taught  how 
bad  my  taste  is,  and  am  feeling  growing  pains. 
They  are  never   pleasant, "    said   Gwendolen,    not 


62  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

taking  any  notice  of  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  and  looking 
up  with  a  bright  smile  at  young  Clintock. 

Mrs.  Arrowpoint  was  not  insensible  to  this  rude- 
ness, but  merely  said,  "  Well,  we  will  not  press 
anything  disagreeably ; "  and  as  there  was  a  per- 
ceptible outrush  of  imprisoned  conversation  just 
then,  and  a  movement  of  guests  seeking  each 
other,  she  remained  seated  where  she  was,  and 
looked  round  her  with  the  relief  of  the  hostess  at 
finding  she  is  not  needed 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  this  neighbourhood, "  said 
young  Clintock,  well  pleased  with  his  station  in 
front  of  Gwendolen. 

"  Exceedingly.  There  seems  to  be  a  little  of 
everything  and  not  much  of  anything. " 

"  That  is  rather  equivocal  praise. " 

"  Not  with  me.  I  like  a  little  of  everything ;  a 
little  absurdity,  for  example,  is  very  amusing.  I 
am  thankful  for  a  few  queer  people ;  but  much  of 
them  is  a  bore. " 

(Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  who  was  hearing  this  dia- 
logue, perceived  quite  a  new  tone  in  Gwendolen's 
speech,  and  felt  a  revival  of  doubt  as  to  her  inter- 
est in  Tasso's  madness.) 

"  I  think  there  should  be  more  croquet,  for  one 
thing, "  said  young  Clintock ;  "  I  am  usually  away, 
but  if  I  were  more  here  I  should  go  in  for  a  cro- 
quet club.  You  are  one  of  the  archers,  I  think. 
But  depend  upon  it,  croquet  is  the  game  of  the 
future.  It  wants  writing  up,  though.  One  of  our 
best  men  has  written  a  poem  on  it,  in  four  cantos, 
—  as  good  as  Pope.  I  want  him  to  publish  it. 
You  never  read  anything  better. " 

"  I  shall  study  croquet  to-morrow.  I  shall  take 
to  it  instead  of  singing. " 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  63 

"No,  no,  not  that;  but  do  take  to  croquet.  I 
will  send  you  Jenning's  poem,  if  you  like.  I  have 
a  manuscript  copy. " 

"  Is  he  a  great  friend  of  yours  ?  ' 

"  Well,  rather. " 

"  Oh,  if  he  is  only  rather,  I  think  I  will  decline. 
Or,  if  you  send  it  me,  will  you  promise  not  to 
catechise  me  upon  it  and  ask  me  which  part  I  like 
best  ?  Because  it  is  not  so  easy  to  know  a  poem 
without  reading  it  as  to  know  a  sermon  without 
listening. " 

"  Decidedly, "  Mrs.  Arrowpoint  thought,  "  this 
girl  is  double  and  satirical.  I  shall  be  on  my 
guard  against  her. " 

But  Gwendolen,  nevertheless,  continued  to  re- 
ceive polite  attentions  from  the  family  at  Quetcham, 
not  merely  because  invitations  have  larger  grounds 
than  those  of  personal  liking,  but  because  the  try- 
ing little  scene  at  the  piano  had  awakened  a  kindly 
solicitude  towards  her  in  the  gentle  mind  of  Miss 
Arrowpoint,  who  managed  all  the  invitations  and 
visits,  her  mother  being  otherwise  occupied. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

Croyez-vons  m'avoir  humiliee  pour  m'avoi  rappris  qne  la  terra 
tourne  autour  du  soleil?  Je  voua  jure  que  je  ue  m'en  estirne  paa 
mollis.  —  FoNTENELLE  :  PluroUle  des  Mondes. 

That  lofty  criticism  had  caused  Gwendolen  a  new 
sort  of  pain.  She  would  not  have  chosen  to  con- 
fess how  unfortunate  she  thought  herself  in  not 
having  had  Miss  Arrowpoint's  musical  advantages, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  question  Herr  Klesmer's  taste 
with  the  confidence  of  thorough  knowledge;  still 
less  to  admit  even  to  herself  that  Miss  Arrowpoint 
each  time  they  met  raised  an  unwonted  feeling  of 
jealousy  in  her :  not  in  the  least  because  she  was 
an  heiress,  but  because  it  was  really  provoking 
that  a  girl  whose  appearance  you  could  not  char- 
acterize except  by  saying  that  her  figure  was  slight 
and  of  middle  stature,  her  features  small,  her  eyes 
tolerable,  and  her  complexion  sallow,  had  never- 
theless a  certain  mental  superiority  which  could 
not  be  explained  away,  —  an  exasperating  thorough- 
ness in  her  musical  accomplishment,  a  fastidious 
discrimination  in  her  general  tastes,  which  made 
it  impossible  to  force  her  admiration  and  kept  you 
in  awe  of  her  standard.  This  insignificant-looking 
young  lady  of  four-and-twenty,  whom  any  one's 
eyes  would  have  passed  over  negligently  if  she  had 
not  been  Miss  Arrowpoint,  might  be  suspected  of 
a  secret  opinion  that  Miss  Harleth's  acquirements 
were  rather  of  a  common  order  j  and  such  an  opin- 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  65 

ion  was  not  made  agreeable  to  think  of  by  being 
always  veiled  under  a  perfect  kindness  of  manner. 

But  Gwendolen  did  not  like  to  dwell  on  facts 
which  threw  an  unfavourable  light  on  herself. 
The  musical  Magus  who  had  so  suddenly  widened 
her  horizon  was  not  always  on  the  scene ;  and  his 
being  constantly  backwards  and  forwards  between 
London  and  Quetcham  soon  began  to  be  thought  of 
as  offering  opportunities  for  converting  him  to  a 
more  admiring  state  of  mind.  Meanwhile,  in  the 
manifest  pleasure  her  singing  gave  at  Brackenshaw 
Castle,  the  Firs,  and  elsewhere,  she  recovered  her 
equanimity,  being  disposed  to  think  approval  more 
trustworthy  than  objection,  and  not  being  one  of 
the  exceptional  persons  who  have  a  parching  thirst 
for  a  perfection  undemanded  by  their  neighbours. 
Perhaps  it  would  have  been  rash  to  say  then  that 
she  was  at  all  exceptional  inwardly,  or  that  the 
unusual  in  her  was  more  than  her  rare  grace  of 
movement  and  bearing,  and  a  certain  daring  which 
gave  piquancy  to  a  very  common  egoistic  ambition, 
such  as  exists  under  many  clumsy  exteriors  and  is 
taken  no  notice  of.  For  I  suppose  that  the  set  of 
the  head  does  not  really  determine  the  hunger  of 
the  inner  self  for  supremacy :  it  only  makes  a  dif- 
ference sometimes  as  to  the  way  in  which  the 
supremacy  is  held  attainable,  and  a  little  also  to 
the  degree  in  which  it  can  be  attained ;  especially 
when  the  hungry  one  is  a  girl,  whose  passion  for 
doing  what  is  remarkable  has  an  ideal  limit  in 
consistency  with  the  highest  breeding  and  perfect 
freedom  from  the  sordid  need  of  income.  Gwen- 
dolen was  as  inwardly  rebellious  against  the  re- 
straints of  family  conditions,  and  as  ready  to  look 
through    obligations    into    her    own    fundamental 

VOL.  I.  —  5 


66  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

want  of  feeling  for  them,  as  if  she  had  been  sus- 
tained by  the  boldest  speculations ;  but  she  really 
had  no  such  speculations,  and  would  at  once  have 
marked  herself  off  from  any  sort  of  theoretical  or 
practically  reforming  women  by  satirizing  them. 
She  rejoiced  to  feel  herself  exceptional ;  but  her 
horizon  was  that  of  the  genteel  romance  where  the 
heroine's  soul  poured  out  in  her  journal  is  full  of 
vague  power,  originality,  and  general  rebellion, 
while  her  life  moves  strictly  in  the  sphere  of  fash- 
ion ;  and  if  she  wanders  into  a  swamp,  the  pathos 
lies  partly,  so  to  speak,  in  her  having  on  her  satin 
shoes.  Here  is  a  restraint  which  nature  and  soci- 
ety have  provided  on  the  pursuit  of  striking  adven- 
ture ;  so  that  a  soul  burning  with  a  sense  of  what 
the  universe  is  not,  and  ready  to  take  all  existence 
as  fuel,  is  nevertheless  held  captive  by  the  ordi- 
nary wire-work  of  social  forms,  and  does  nothing 
particular. 

This  commonplace  result  was  what  Gwendolen 
found  herself  threatened  with  even  in  the  novelty 
of  the  first  winter  at  Offendene.  What  she  was 
clear  upon  was,  that  she  did  not  wish  to  lead  the 
same  sort  of  life  as  ordinary  young  ladies  did ;  but 
what  she  was  not  clear  upon  was,  how  she  should 
set  about  leading  any  other,  and  what  were  the 
particular  acts  which  she  would  assert  her  freedom 
by  doing.  Offendene  remained  a  good  background, 
if  anything  would  happen  there ;  but  on  the  whole 
the  neighbourhood  was  in  fault. 

Beyond  the  effect  of  her  beauty  on  a  first  presen- 
tation, there  was  not  much  excitement  to  be  got 
out  of  her  earliest  invitations,  and  she  came  home 
after  little  sallies  of  satire  and  knowingness,  such 
as  had  offended  Mrs.   Arrowpoint,  to  fill  the  iu- 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  67 

tervening  days  with  the  most  girlish  devices. 
The  strongest  assertion  she  was  able  to  make  of 
her  individual  claims  was  to  leave  out  Alice's 
lessons  (on  the  principle  that  Alice  was  more 
likely  to  excel  in  ignorance),  and  to  employ  her 
with  Miss  Merry,  and  the  maid  who  was  under- 
stood to  wait  on  all  the  ladies,  in  helping  to 
arrange  various  dramatic  costumes  which  Gwen- 
dolen pleased  herself  with  having  in  readiness  for 
some  future  occasions  of  acting  in  charades  or 
theatrical  pieces,  occasions  which  she  meant  to 
bring  about  by  force  of  will  or  contrivance.  She 
had  never  acted, —  only  made  a  figure  in  tableaux 
vivans  at  school ;  but  she  felt  assured  that  she 
could  act  well,  and  having  been  once  or  twice  to 
the  Theatre  Frangais,  and  also  heard  her  mamma 
speak  of  Eachel,  her  waking  dreams  and  cogita- 
tions as  to  how  she  would  manage  her  destiny 
sometimes  turned  on  the  question  whether  she 
would  become  an  actress  like  Eachel,  since  she 
was  more  beautiful  than  that  thin  Jewess.  Mean- 
while the  wet  days  before  Christmas  were  passed 
pleasantly  in  the  preparation  of  costumes,  Greek, 
Oriental,  and  Composite,  in  which  Gwendolen 
attitudinized  and  speechified  before  a  domestic 
audience,  including  even  the  housekeeper,  who 
was  once  pressed  into  it  that  she  might  swell  the 
notes  of  applause ;  but  having  shown  herself  un- 
worthy by  observing  that  Miss  Harleth  looked  far 
more  like  a  queen  in  her  own  dress  than  in  that 
baggy  thing  with  her  arms  all  bare,  she  was  not 
invited  a  second  time. 

"  Do  I  look  as  well  as  Eachel,  mamma  ?  "  said 
Gwendolen,  one  day  when  she  had  been  showing 
herself  in  her  Greek  dress  to  Anna,  and  going 
through  scraps  of  scenes  with  much  tragic  intention. 


68  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  You  have  better  arms  than  Rachel, "  said  Mrs. 
Davilow ;  "  your  arms  would  do  for  anything,  Gwen. 
But  your  voice  is  not  so  tragic  as  hers ;  it  is  not  so 
deep. " 

"  I  can  make  it  deeper,  if  I  like, "  said  Gwen- 
dolen, provisionally;  then  she  added,  with  deci- 
sion, "  I  think  a  higher  voice  is  more  tragic :  it  is 
more  feminine ;  and  the  more  feminine  a  woman 
is,  the  more  tragic  it  seems  when  she  does  desper- 
ate actions. " 

"  There  may  be  something  in  that, "  said  Mrs. 
Davilow,  languidly.  "But  I  don't  know  what 
good  there  is  in  making  one's  blood  creep.  And 
if  there  is  anything  horrible  to  be  done,  I  should 
like  it  to  be  left  to  the  men. " 

"  Oh,  mamma,  you  are  so  dreadfully  prosaic ! 
As  if  all  the  great  poetic  criminals  were  not 
women!  I  think  the  men  are  poor  cautious 
creatures. " 

"  Well,  dear,  and  you  —  who  are  afraid  to  be 
alone  in  the  night  —  I  don't  think  you  would  be 
very  bold  in  crime,  thank  God. " 

"  I  am  not  talking  about  reality,  mamma, "  said 
Gwendolen,  impatiently.  Then,  her  mamma  being 
called  out  of  the  room,  she  turned  quickly  to  her 
cousin,  as  if  taking  an  opportunity,  and  said : 
"  Anna,  do  ask  my  uncle  to  let  us  get  up  some  cha- 
Tades  at  the  Rectory.  Mr.  Middle  ton  and  Warham 
could  act  with  us  —  just  for  practice.  Mamma  says 
it  will  not  do  to  have  Mr.  Middleton  consulting  and 
rehearsing  here.  He  is  a  stick,  but  we  could  give 
him  suitable  parts.     Do  ask ;  or  else  I  will. " 

"  Oh,  not  till  Rex  comes.  He  is  so  clever,  and 
such  a  dear  old  thing,  and  he  will  act  Napoleon 
looking  over  the  sea.  He  looks  just  like  Napo- 
leon.    Rex  can  do  anything. " 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  69 

"  I  don't  in  the  least  believe  in  your  Eex,  Anna," 
said  Gwendolen,  laughing  at  her.  "  He  will  turn 
out  to  be  like  those  wretched  blue  and  yellow 
water-colours  of  his  which  you  hang  up  in  your 
bedroom  and  worship. " 

"  Very  well,  you  will  see, "  said  Anna.  "  It  is 
not  that  I  know  what  is  clever,  but  he  has  got  a 
scholarship  already,  and  papa  says  he  will  get  a 
fellowship,  and  nobody  is  better  at  games.  He  is 
cleverer  than  Mr.  Middleton,  and  everybody  but 
you  calls  Mr.   Middleton  clever. " 

"  So  he  may  be  in  a  dark-lantern  sort  of  way. 
But  he  *s  a  stick.  If  he  had  to  say,  *  Perdition 
catch  my  soul,  but  I  do  love  her, '  he  would  say  it 
in  just  the  same  tone  as,  '  Here  endeth  the  second 
lesson. '  " 

"  Oh,  Gwendolen !  "  said  Anna,  shocked  at  these 
promiscuous  allusions.  "  And  it  is  very  unkind 
of  you  to  speak  so  of  him,  for  he  admires  you  very 
much.  I  heard  Warham  say  one  day  to  mamma, 
'  Middleton  is  regularly  spoony  upon  Gwendolen. ' 
She  was  very  angry  with  him ;  but  I  know  what  it 
means.  It  is  what  they  say  at  college  for  being  in 
love.  " 

"  How  can  I  help  it  ? "  said  Gwendolen,  rather 
contemptuously.  "  Perdition  catch  my  soul  if  I 
love  him.  " 

"  No,  of  course ;  papa,  I  think,  would  not  wish 
it.  And  he  is  to  go  away  soon.  But  it  makes  me 
sorry  when  you  ridicule  him. " 

"  What  shall  you  do  to  me  when  I  ridicule 
Eex  ? "  said  Gwendolen,  wickedly. 

"  Now,  Gwendolen  dear,  you  will  not  ?  "  _  said 
Anna,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears.  "  I  could  not 
bear  it.     But  there  really  is  nothing  in  him  to 


70  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

ridicule.  Only  you  may  find  out  things.  For  no 
one  ever  thought  of  laughing  at  Mr.  Middleton 
before  you.  Every  one  said  he  was  nice-looking, 
and  his  manners  perfect.  I  am  sure  I  have  always 
been  frightened  at  him  because  of  his  learning  and 
his  square-cut  coat,  and  his  being  a  nephew  of  the 
bishop's  and  all  that.  But  you  will  not  ridicule 
Rex,  —  promise  me.  "  Anna  ended  with  a  beseech- 
ing look  which  touched  Gwendolen. 

"  You  are  a  dear  little  coz, "  she  said,  just  touch- 
ing the  tip  of  Anna's  chin  with  her  thumb  and 
forefinger.  **  I  don't  ever  want  to  do  anything  that 
will  vex  you.  Especially  if  Rex  is  to  make  every- 
thing come  off,  —  charades  and  everything." 

And  when  at  last  Rex  was  there,  the  animation 
he  brought  into  the  life  at  Offendene  and  the  Rec- 
tory, and  his  ready  partnership  in  Gwendolen's 
plans,  left  her  no  inclination  for  any  ridicule  that 
was  not  of  an  open  and  flattering  kind,  such  as  he 
himself  enjoyed.  He  was  a  fine  open-hearted  youth, 
with  a  handsome  face  strongly  resembling  his 
father's  and  Anna's,  but  softer  in  expression  than 
the  one,  and  larger  in  scale  than  the  other;  a 
bright,  healthy,  loving  nature,  enjoying  ordinary, 
innocent  things  so  much  that  vice  had  no  tempta- 
tion for  him,  and  what  he  knew  of  it  lay  too 
entirely  in  the  outer  courts  and  little-visited  cham- 
bers of  his  mind  for  him  to  think  of  it  with  great 
repulsion.  Vicious  habits  were  with  him  "  what 
some  fellows  did," — "stupid  stuff"  which  he 
liked  to  keep  aloof  from.  He  returned  Anna's 
affection  as  fully  as  could  be  expected  of  a  brother 
whose  pleasures  apart  from  her  were  more  than  the 
sum  total  of  hers;  and  he  had  never  known  a 
Stronger  love. 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  71 

The  cousins  were  continually  together  at  the  one 
house  or  the  other, —  chiefly  at  Offendene,  where 
there  was  more  freedom,  or  rather  where  there  was 
a  more  complete  sway  for  Gwendolen ;  and  what- 
ever she  wished  became  a  ruling  purpose  for  Rex. 
The  charades  came  off  according  to  her  plans ;  and 
also  some  other  little  scenes  not  contemplated  by 
her  in  which  her  acting  was  more  impromptu.  It 
was  at  Offendene  that  the  charades  and  tableaux 
were  rehearsed  and  presented,  Mrs.  Davilow  seeing 
no  objection  even  to  Mr.  Middleton's  being  invited 
to  share  in  them,  now  that  Eex  too  was  there, — 
especially  as  his  services  were  indispensable  ;  War- 
ham,  who  was  studying  for  India  with  a  Wanches- 
ter  "  coach, "  having  no  time  to  spare,  and  being 
generally  dismal  under  a  cram  of  everything  except 
the  answers  needed  at  the  forthcoming  Examina- 
tion, which  might  disclose  the  welfare  of  our 
Indian  Empire  to  be  somehow  connected  with  a 
quotable  knowledge  of  Browne's  Pastorals. 

Mr.  Middleton  was  persuaded  to  play  various 
grave  parts,  Gwendolen  having  flattered  him  on 
his  enviable  immobility  of  countenance ;  and  at 
first  a  little  pained  and  jealous  at  her  comradeship 
with  Eex,  he  presently  drew  encouragement  from 
the  thought  that  this  sort  of  cousinly  familiarity 
excluded  any  serious  passion.  Indeed,  he  occa- 
sionally felt  that  her  more  formal  treatment  of 
himself  was  such  a  sign  of  favour  as  to  warrant 
his  making  advances  before  he  left  Pennicote, 
though  he  had  intended  to  keep  his  feelings  in 
reserve  until  his  position  should  be  more  assured. 
Miss  Gwendolen,  quite  aware  that  she  was  adored 
by  this  unexceptionable  young  clergyman  with 
pale  whiskers  and  square-cut  collar,  felt  nothing 


72  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

more  on  the  subject  than  that  she  had  no  objec- 
tion to  be  adored  :  she  turned  her  eyes  on  him  with 
calm  mercilessness,  and  caused  him  many  mildly 
agitating  hopes  by  seeming  always  to  avoid  dra- 
matic contact  with  him, —  for  all  meanings,  we 
know,  depend  on  the  key  of  interpretation. 

Some  persons  might  have  thought  beforehand 
that  a  young  man  of  Anglican  leanings,  having  a 
sense  of  sacredness  much  exercised  on  small  things 
as  well  as  great,  rarely  laughing  save  from  polite- 
ness, and  in  general  regarding  the  mention  of 
spades  by  their  naked  names  as  rather  coarse, 
would  not  have  seen  a  fitting  bride  for  himself  in 
a  girl  who  was  daring  in  ridicule,  and  showed 
none  of  the  special  grace  required  in  the  clergy- 
man's wife;  or  that  a  young  man  informed  by 
theological  reading  would  have  reflected  that  he 
was  not  likely  to  meet  the  taste  of  a  lively,  rest- 
less young  lady  like  Miss  Harleth.  But  are  we 
always  obliged  to  explain  why  the  facts  are  not 
what  some  persons  thought  beforehand  ?  The 
apology  lies  on  their  side  who  had  that  erroneous 
way  of  thinking. 

As  for  Kex,  who  would  possibly  have  been  sorry 
for  poor  Middleton  if  he  had  been  aware  of  the 
excellent  curate's  inward  conflict,  he  was  too  com- 
pletely absorbed  in  a  first  passion  to  have  observa- 
tion for  any  person  or  thing.  He  did  not  observe 
Gwendolen ;  he  only  felt  what  she  said  or  did,  and 
the  back  of  his  head  seemed  to  be  a  good  organ  of 
information  as  to  whether  she  was  in  the  room  or 
out.  Before  the  end  of  the  first  fortnight  he  was 
so  deeply  in  love  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
think  of  his  life  except  as  bound  up  with  Gwen- 
dolen's.    He  could  see  no  obstacles,  poor  boy ;  his 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  73 

own  love  seemed  a  guarantee  of  hers,  since  it  was 
one  with  the  unperturbed  delight  in  her  image,  so 
that  he  could  no  more  dream  of  her  giving  him 
pain  than  an  Egyptian  could  dream  of  snow.  Slie 
sang  and  played  to  him  whenever  he  liked,  was 
always  glad  of  his  companionship  in  riding,  though 
his  borrowed  steeds  were  often  comic,  was  ready  to 
join  in  any  fun  of  his,  and  showed  a  right  appre- 
ciation of  Anna.  No  mark  of  sympathy  seemed 
absent.  That  because  Gwendolen  was  the  most 
perfect  creature  in  the  world  she  was  to  make  a 
grand  match,  had  not  occurred  to  him.  He  had 
no  conceit,  —  at  least,  not  more  than  goes  to  make 
up  the  necessary  gum  and  consistence  of  a  substan- 
tial personality :  it  was  only  that  in  the  young 
bliss  of  loving  he  took  Gwendolen's  perfection  as 
part  of  that  good  which  had  seemed  one  with  life 
to  him,  being  the  outcome  of  a  happy,  well-em- 
bodied nature. 

One  incident  which  happened  in  the  course  of 
their  dramatic  attempts  impressed  Eex  as  a  sign  of 
her  unusual  sensibility.  It  showed  an  aspect  of  her 
nature  which  could  not  have  been  preconceived  by 
any  one  who,  like  him,  had  only  seen  her  habitual 
fearlessness  in  active  exercises  and  her  high  spirits 
in  society. 

After  a  good  deal  of  rehearsing  it  was  resolved 
that  a  select  party  should  be  invited  to  Offendene 
to  witness  the  performances  which  went  with  so 
much  satisfaction  to  the  actors.  Anna  had  caused 
a  pleasant  surprise ;  nothing  could  be  neater  than 
the  way  in  which  she  played  her  little  parts ;  one 
would  even  have  suspected  her  of  hiding  much  sly 
observation  under  her  simplicity.  And  Mr.  Mid- 
dleton  answered  very  well  by  not  trying    to   be 


74  DANIEL  BERONDA. 

comic.  The  main  source  of  doubt  and  retardation 
had  been  Gwendolen's  desire  to  appear  in  her 
Greek  dress.  No  word  for  a  charade  would  occur 
to  her  either  waking  or  dreaming  that  suited  her 
purpose  of  getting  a  statuesque  pose  in  this  favour- 
ite costume.  To  choose  a  motive  from  Eacine  was 
of  no  use,  since  Rex  and  the  others  could  not  de- 
claim French  verse,  and  improvised  speeches  would 
turn  the  scene  into  burlesque.  Besides,  Mr.  Gas- 
coigne  prohibited  the  acting  of  scenes  from  plays : 
he  usually  protested  against  the  notion  that  an 
amusement  which  was  fitting  for  every  one  else 
was  unfitting  for  a  clergyman ;  but  he  would  not 
in  this  matter  overstep  the  line  of  decorum  as 
drawn  in  that  part  of  Wessex,  which  did  not  ex- 
clude his  sanction  of  the  young  people's  acting 
charades  in  his  sister-in-law's  house,  —  a  very 
different  affair  from  private  theatricals  in  the  full 
sense  of  the  word. 

Everybody  of  course  was  concerned  to  satisfy 
this  wish  of  Gwendolen's,  and  Rex  proposed  that 
they  should  wind  up  with  a  tableau  in  which  the 
effect  of  her  majesty  would  not  be  marred  by  any 
one's  speech.  This  pleased  her  thoroughly,  and 
the  only  question  was  the  choice  of  the  tableau. 

"  Something  pleasant,  children,  I  beseech  you, ' 
said  Mrs.  Davilow;  "I  can't  have  any  Greek 
wickedness. " 

"  It  is  no  worse  than  Christian  wickedness, 
mamma,"  said  Gwendolen,  whose  mention  of 
Eachelesque  heroines  had  called  forth  that  remark. 

"  And  less  scandalous, "  said  Eex.  "  Besides, 
one  thinks  of  it  as  all  gone  by  and  done  with. 
What  do  you  say  to  Briseis  being  led  away  ?  I 
would   be   Achilles,   and   you   would   be   looking 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  75 

round  at  me  —  after  the  print  we  have  at  the 
Kectory. " 

"  That  would  be  a  good  attitude  for  me, "  said 
Gwendolen,  in  a  tone  of  acceptance.  But  after- 
wards she  said  with  decision,  "  No.  It  will  not 
do.  There  must  be  three  men  in  proper  costume, 
else  it  will  be  ridiculous. " 

"  I  have  it ! "  said  Rex,  after  a  little  reflection. 
"  Hermione  as  the  statue  in  the  Winter's  Tale!  I 
will  be  Leontes,  and  Miss  Merry  Paulina,  one  on 
each  side.  Our  dress  won't  signify,"  he  went  on 
laughingly ;  "  it  will  be  more  Shakespearian  and 
romantic  if  Leontes  looks  like  Napoleon,  and  Pau- 
lina like  a  modern  spinster.  " 

And  Hermione  was  chosen,  all  agreeing  that 
age  was  of  no  consequence ;  but  Gwendolen  urged 
that  instead  of  the  mere  tableau  there  should  be 
just  enough  acting  of  the  scene  to  introduce  the 
striking  up  of  the  music  as  a  signal  for  her  to  step 
down  and  advance ;  when  Leontes,  instead  of  em- 
bracing her,  was  to  kneel  and  kiss  the  hem  of  her 
garment,  and  so  the  curtain  was  to  fall.  The 
antechamber  with  folding  doors  lent  itself  admi- 
rably to  the  purposes  of  a  stage,  and  the  whole  of 
the  establishment,  with  the  addition  of  Jarrett  the 
village  carpenter,  was  absorbed  in  the  preparations 
for  an  entertainment  which,  considering  that  it 
was  an  imitation  of  acting,  was  likely  to  be  suc- 
cessful, since  we  know  from  ancient  fable  that  an 
imitation  may  have  more  chance  of  success  than 
the  original. 

Gwendolen  was  not  without  a  special  exultation 
in  the  prospect  of  this  occasion,  for  she  knew  that 
Herr  Klesmer  was  again  at  Quetcham,  and  she  had 
taken  care  to  include  him  among  the  invited. 


76  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

Klesmer  came.  He  was  in  one  of  his  placid 
silent  moods,  and  sat  in  serene  contemplation, 
replying  to  all  appeals  in  benignant-sounding 
syllables  more  or  less  articulate, —  as  taking  up  his 
cross  meekly  in  a  world  overgrown  with  amateurs, 
or  as  careful  how  he  moved  his  lion  paws  lest  he 
should  crush  a  rampant  and  vociferous  mouse. 

Everything  indeed  went  off  smoothly  and  accord- 
ing to  expectation  —  all  that  was  improvised  and 
accidental  being  of  a  probable  sort  —  until  the  in- 
cident occurred  which  showed  Gwendolen  in  an 
unforeseen  phase  of  emotion.  How  it  came  about 
was  at  first  a  mystery. 

The  tableau  of  Hermione  was  doubly  striking 
from  its  dissimilarity  with  what  had  gone  before : 
it  was  answering  perfectly,  and  a  murmur  of  ap- 
plause had  been  gradually  suppressed  while  Leontes 
gave  his  permission  that  Paulina  should  exercise 
her  utmost  art  and  make  the  statue  move. 

Hermione,  her  arm  resting  on  a  pillar,  was  ele- 
vated by  about  six  inches,  which  she  counted  on  as 
a  means  of  showing  her  pretty  foot  and  instep, 
when  at  the  given  signal  she  should  advance  and 
descend. 

"  Music,  awake  her,  strike !  "  said  Paulina  (Mrs. 
Davilow,  who  by  special  entreaty  had  consented  to 
take  the  part  in  a  white  burnous  and  hood) 

•  Herr  Klesmer,  who  had  been  good-natured  enough 
to  seat  himself  at  the  piano,  struck  a  thunderous 
chord  —  but  in  the  same  instant,  and  before  Her- 
mione had  put  forth  her  foot,  the  movable  panel, 
which  was  on  a  line  with  the  piano,  ilew  open  on 
the  right  opposite  the  stage,  and  disclosed  the 
picture  of  the  dead  face  and  the  fleeing  figure, 
brought  out  in  pale  definiteness  by  the  position  of 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  ^^ 

the  wax -lights.  Every  one  was  startled ;  but  all 
eyes  in  the  act  of  turning  towards  the  opened  panel 
were  recalled  by  a  piercing  cry  from  Gwendolen, 
who  stood  without  change  of  attitude,  but  with  a 
change  of  expression  that  was  terrifying  in  its  ter- 
ror. She  looked  like  a  statue  into  which  a  soul  of 
Fear  had  entered  :  her  pallid  lips  were  parted ;  her 
eyes,  usually  narrowed  under  their  long  lashes, 
were  dilated  and  fixed.  Her  mother,  less  surprised 
than  alarmed,  rushed  towards  her,  and  Eex  too 
could  not  help  going  to  her  side.  But  the  touch 
of  her  mother's  arm  had  the  effect  of  an  electric 
charge ;  Gwendolen  fell  on  her  knees  and  put  her 
hands  before  her  faca  She  was  still  trembling, 
but  mute,  and  it  seemed  that  she  had  self-con- 
sciousness enough  to  aim  at  controlling  her  signs 
of  terror,  for  she  presently  allowed  herself  to  be 
raised  from  her  kneeling  posture  and  led  away, 
while  the  company  were  relieving  their  minds  by 
explanation. 

"  A  magnificent  bit  of  plastik  that  I  "  said  Kles- 
mer  to  Miss  Arrowpoint.  And  a  quick  fire  of 
undertoned  question  and  answer  went  round. 

"  Was  it  part  of  the  play  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  surely  not.  Miss  Harleth  was  too 
much  affected.     A  sensitive  creature !  " 

"  Dear  me !  I  was  not  aware  that  there  was  a 
painting  behind  that  panel ;  were  you  ?  " 

"  No ;  how  should  I  ?  Some  eccentricity  in  one 
of  the  Earl's  family  long  ago,  I  suppose.  " 

"  How  very  painful !     Pray  shut  it  up.  " 

"  Was  the  door  locked  ?  It  is  very  mysterioua 
It  must  be  the  spirits.  " 

"  But  there  is  no  medium  present  " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  We  must  conclude 
that  there  is,  when  such  things  happen.  " 


78  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

*  Oh,  the  door  was  not  locked ;  it  was  probahly 
the  sudden  vibration  from  the  piano  that  sent  it 
open. " 

This  conclusion  came  from  Mr.  Gascoigne,  who 
begged  Miss  Merry  if  possible  to  get  the  key.  But 
this  readiness  to  explain  the  mystery  was  thought 
by  Mrs.  Vulcany  unbecoming  in  a  clergyman,  and 
she  observed  in  an  undertone  that  Mr.  Gascoigne 
was  always  a  little  too  worldly  for  her  taste. 
However,  the  key  was  produced,  and  the  rector 
turned  it  in  the  lock  with  an  emphasis  rather 
offensively  rationalizing  —  as  who  should  say,  "  It 
will  not  start  open  again," — putting  the  key  in 
his  pocket  as  a  security. 

However,  Gwendolen  soon  reappeared,  showing 
her  usual  spirits,  and  evidently  determined  to 
ignore  as  far  as  she  could  the  striking  change  she 
had  made  in  the  part  of  Hermiona 

But  when  Klesmer  said  to  her,  "  We  have  to 
thank  you  for  devising  a  perfect  climax  :  you  could 
not  have  chosen  a  finer  bit  of  plastik, "  there  was 
a  Hush  of  pleasure  in  her  face.  She  liked  to  accept 
as  a  belief  what  was  really  no  more  than  delicate 
feigning.  He  divined  that  the  betrayal  into  a  pas- 
sion of  fear  had  been  mortifying  to  her,  and  wished 
her  to  understand  that  he  took  it  for  good  acting. 
Gwendolen  cherished  the  idea  that  now  he  was 
struck  with  her  talent  as  well  as  her  beauty,  and 
her  uneasiness  about  his  opinion  was  half  turned 
to  complacency. 

But  too  many  were  in  the  secret  of  what  had 
been  included  in  the  rehearsals,  and  what  had  not ; 
and  no  one  besides  Klesmer  took  the  trouble  to 
soothe  Gwendolen's  imagined  mortification.  The 
general  sentiment  was  that  the  incident  should  bo 
let  drop. 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  79 

There  had  really  been  a  medium  concerned  in 
the  starting  open  of  the  panel :  one  who  had  quitted 
the  room  in  haste  and  crept  to  bed  in  much  alarm 
of  conscience.  It  was  the  small  Isabel,  whose  in- 
tense curiosity,  unsatisfied  by  the  brief  glimpse 
she  had  had  of  the  strange  picture  on  the  day  of 
arrival  at  Offendene,  had  kept  her  on  the  watch  for 
an  opportunity  of  finding  out  where  Gwendolen 
had  put  the  key,  of  stealing  it  from  the  discovered 
drawer  when  the  rest  of  the  family  were  out,  and 
getting  on  a  stool  to  unlock  the  panel.  While  she 
was  indulging  her  thirst  for  knowledge  in  this 
way,  a  noise  which  she  feared  was  an  approaching 
footstep  alarmed  her:  she  closed  the  door  and 
attempted  hurriedly  to  lock  it,  but  failing  and  not 
daring  to  linger,  she  withdrew  the  key  and  trusted 
that  the  panel  would  stick,  as  it  seemed  well  in- 
clined to  do.  In  this  confidence  she  had  returned 
the  key  to  its  former  place,  stilling  any  anxiety  by 
the  thought  that  if  the  door  were  discovered  to  be 
unlocked  nobody  could  know  how  the  unlocking 
came  about.  The  inconvenient  Isabel,  like  other 
offenders,  did  not  foresee  her  own  impulse  to  con- 
fession, a  fatality  which  came  upon  her  the  morn- 
ing after  the  party,  when  Gwendolen  said  at  the 
breakfast-table,  "  I  know  the  door  was  locked 
before  the  housekeeper  gave  me  the  key,  for  I 
tried  it  myself  afterwards.  Some  one  must  have 
been  to  my  drawer  and  taken  the  key. " 

It  seemed  to  Isabel  that  Gwendolen's  awful  eyes 
had  rested  on  her  more  than  on  the  other  sisters, 
and  without  any  time  for  resolve  she  said  with  a 
trembling  lip,  "  Please  forgive  me,  Gwendolen. " 

The  forgiveness  was  sooner  bestowed  than  it 
would  have  been  if  Gwendolen  had  not  desired  to 


8o  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

dismiss  from  her  own  and  every  one  else's  memory 
any  case  in  which  she  had  shown  her  susceptibil- 
ity to  terror.  She  wondered  at  herself  in  these 
occasional  experiences,  which  seemed  like  a  brief 
remembered  madness,  an  unexplained  exception 
from  her  normal  life ;  and  in  this  instance  she  felt 
a  peculiar  vexation  that  her  helpless  fear  had 
shown  itself,  not,  as  usual,  in  solitude,  but  in 
well-lit  company.  Her  ideal  was  to  be  daring  in 
speech  and  reckless  in  braving  dangers,  both  moral 
and  physical ;  and  though  her  practice  fell  far 
behind  her  ideal,  this  shortcoming  seemed  to  be 
due  to  the  pettiness  of  circumstances,  the  narrow 
theatre  which  life  offers  to  a  girl  of  twenty,  who 
cannot  conceive  herself  as  anything  else  than  a 
lady,  or  as  in  any  position  which  would  lack  the 
tribute  of  respect.  She  had  no  permanent  con- 
sciousness of  other  fetters,  or  of  more  spiritual 
restraints,  having  always  disliked  whatever  was 
presented  to  her  under  the  name  of  religion,  in  the 
same  way  that  some  people  dislike  arithmetic  and 
accounts :  it  had  raised  no  other  emotion  in  her, 
no  alarm,  no  longing ;  so  that  the  question  whether 
she  believed  it  had  not  occurred  to  her,  any  more 
than  it  had  occurred  to  her  to  inquire  into  the 
conditions  of  colonial  property  and  banking,  on 
which,  as  she  had  had  many  opportunities  of 
knowing,  the  family  fortune  was  dependent.  All 
these  facts  about  herself  she  would  have  been  ready 
to  admit,  and  even,  more  or  less  indirectly,  to 
state.  What  she  unwillingly  recognized,  and  would 
have  been  glad  for  others  to  be  unaware  of,  was 
that  liability  of  hers  to  fits  of  spiritual  dread, 
though  this  fountain  of  awe  within  her  had  not 
found  its  way   into  connection  with  the  religion 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  8i 

taught  her  or  with  any  human  relations.  She  was 
ashamed  and  frightened,  as  at  what  might  happen 
again,  in  remembering  her  tremor  on  suddenly 
feeling  herself  alone,  when,  for  example,  she  was 
walking  without  companionship  and  there  came 
some  rapid  change  in  the  light.  Solitude  in  any 
wide  scene  impressed  her  with  an  undefined  feel- 
ing of  immeasurable  existence  aloof  from  her,  in 
the  midst  of  which  she  was  helplessly  incapable  of 
asserting  herself.  The  little  astronomy  taught  her 
at  school  used  sometimes  to  set  her  imagination  at 
work  in  a  way  that  made  her  tremble  :  but  always 
when  some  one  joined  her  she  recovered  her  in- 
difference to  the  vastness  in  which  she  seemed  an 
exile;  she  found  again  her  usual  world  in  which 
her  will  was  of  some  avail,  and  the  religious 
nomenclature  belonging  to  this  world  was  no  more 
identified  for  her  with  those  uneasy  impressions  of 
awe  than  her  uncle's  surplices  seen  out  of  use  at 
the  Eectory.  With  human  ears  and  eyes  about 
her,  she  had  always  hitherto  recovered  her  confi- 
dence, and  felt  the  possibility  of  winning  empire. 

To  her  mamma  and  others  her  fits  of  timidity  or 
terror  were  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  her  "  sen- 
sitiveness "  or  the  "  excitability  of  her  nature ;  " 
but  these  explanatory  phrases  required  conciliation 
with  much  that  seemed  to  be  blank  indifference  or 
rare  self-mastery.  Heat  is  a  great  agent  and  a 
useful  word,  but  considered  as  a  means  of  explain- 
ing the  universe  it  requires  an  extensive  knowl- 
edge of  differences ;  and  as  a  means  of  explaining 
character  "  sensitiveness  "  is  in  much  the  same 
predicament.  But  who,  loving  a  creature  like 
Gwendolen,  would  not  be  inclined  to  regard  every 
peculiarity  in   her  as  a  mark    of    pre-eminence  ? 

VOL.  I.  —  6 


8a  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

That  was  what  Rex  did.  After  the  Hermione 
scene  he  was  more  persuaded  than  ever  that  she 
must  be  instinct  with  all  feeling,  and  not  only 
readier  to  respond  to  a  worshipful  love,  but  able 
to  love  better  than  other  girls.  Rex  felt  the  sum- 
mer on  his  young  wings,  and  soared  happily. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Perigot.  As  the  bonny  lasse  passed  bye, 

Willie.  Hey,  ho,  bonnilasse  ! 

P.  She  roode  at  me  with  glauncing  eye, 

W.  As  clear  as  the  crystall  glasse. 

P.  All  as  the  sunny  beame  so  bright, 

W.  Hey,  ho,  the  sunnebeame ! 

P.  Glaunceth  from  Phcebus'  face  forthright, 

W.  So  love  into  thy  heart  did  streame. 

Spenser:  Shepheard's  Calendar. 

The  kindliest  symptom,  yet  the  most  alarming  crisis  in  the 
ticklish  state  of  youth;  the  nourisher  and  destroyer  of  hopeful 
wits ;  .  .  .  the  servitude  above  freedom ;  the  gentle  mind's  religion ; 
the  liberal  superstition.  —  Charles  Lamb. 

The  first  sign  of  the  unimagined  snow-storm  was 
like  the  transparent  white  cloud  that  seems  to  set 
off  the  blue.  Anna  was  in  the  secret  of  Rex's  feel- 
ing ;  though  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives  he  had 
said  nothing  to  her  about  what  he  most  thought  of, 
and  he  only  took  it  for  granted  that  she  knew  it. 
For  the  first  time,  too,  Anna  could  not  say  to  Rex 
what  was  continually  in  her  mind.  Perhaps  it 
might  have  been  a  pain  which  she  would  have  had 
to  conceal,  that  he  should  so  soon  care  for  some  one 
else  more  than  for  herself,  if  such  a  feeling  had  not 
been  thoroughly  neutralized  by  doubt  and  anxiety  on 
his  behalf.  Anna  admired  her  cousin,  — would  have 
said  with  simple  sincerity,  "Gwendolen  is  always 
very  good  to  me,"  and  held  it  in  the  order  of  things 
for  herself  to  be  entirely  subject  to  this  cousin ;  but 
she  looked  at  her  with  mingled  fear  and  distrust, 


84  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

with  a  puzzled  contemplation  as  of  some  wondrous 
and  beautiful  animal  whose  nature  was  a  mystery, 
and  who,  for  anything  Anna  knew,  might  have  an 
appetite  for  devouring  all  the  small  creatures  that 
were  her  own  particular  pets.  And  now  Anna's 
heart  was  sinking  under  the  heavy  conviction  which 
she  dared  not  utter,  that  Gwendolen  would  never 
care  for  Rex.  What  she  herself  held  in  tenderness 
and  reverence  had  constantly  seemed  indifferent  to 
Gwendolen,  and  it  was  easier  to  imagine  her  scorning 
Rex  than  returning  any  tenderness  of  his.  Besides, 
she  was  always  thinking  of  being  something  extraor- 
dinary. And  poor  Rex !  Papa  would  be  angry  with 
him,  if  he  knew.  And  of  course  he  was  too  young 
to  be  in  love  in  that  way ;  and  she,  Anna,  had 
thought  that  it  would  be  years  and  years  before 
anything  of  that  sort  came,  and  that  she  would  be 
Rex's  housekeeper  ever  so  long.  But  what  a  heart 
must  that  be  which  did  not  return  his  love !  Anna, 
in  the  prospect  of  his  suffering,  was  beginning  to 
dislike  her  too  fascinating  cousin. . 

It  seemed  to  her,  as  it  did  to  Rex,  that  the  weeks 
had  been  filled  with  a  tumultuous  life  evident  to  all 
observers :  if  he  had  been  questioned  on  the  subject, 
he  would  have  said  that  he  had  no  wish  to  conceal 
what  he  hoped  would  be  an  engagement  which  he 
should  immediately  tell  his  father  of ;  and  yet  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  reserved  not  only 
about  his  feelings,  but  —  which  was  more  remarkable 
to  Anna  —  about  certain  actions.  She,  on  her  side, 
was  nervous  each  time  her  father  or  mother  began 
to  speak  to  her  in  private,  lest  they  should  say  any- 
thing about  Rex  and  Gwendolen.  But  the  elders 
were  not  in  the  least  alive  to  this  agitating  drama, 
which  went  forward  chiefly  in  a  sort  of  pantomime 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  85 

extremely  lucid  in  the  minds  thus  expressing  them- 
selves, but  easily  missed  by  spectators  who  were 
running  their  eyes  over  the  "Guardian"  or  the 
"Clerical  Gazette,"  and  regarded  the  trivialities  of 
the  young  ones  with  scarcely  more  interpretation 
than  they  gave  to  the  actions  of  lively  ants. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Eex  ? "  said  Anna  one 
gray  morning  when  her  father  had  set  off  in  the 
carriage  to  the  sessions,  Mrs,  Gascoigne  with  him, 
and  she  had  observed  that  her  brother  had  on  his 
antigropelos,  the  utmost  approach  he  possessed  to 
a  hunting  equipment. 

"  Going  to  see  the  hounds  throw  off  at  the  Three 
Barns." 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  Gwendolen  ? "  said  Anna, 
timidly. 

"  She  told  you,  did  she  ? " 

"No;  but  I  thought —  Does  papa  know  you 
are   going  ? " 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of.  I  don't  suppose  he 
would  trouble  himself  about  the  matter." 

"  You  are  going  to  use  his  horse  ? " 

"  He  knows  I  do  that  whenever  I  can." 

"  Don't  let  Gwendolen  ride  after  the  hounds,  Eex," 
said  Anna,  whose  fears  gifted  her  with  second-sight. 

"Why  not?"  said  Eex,  smiling  rather  pro- 
vokingly. 

"  Papa  and  mamma  and  Aunt  Davilow  all  wish 
her  not  to.     They  think  it  is  not  right  for  her." 

"Why  should  you  suppose  she  is  going  to  do 
what  is  not  right?" 

"  Gwendolen  minds  nobody  sometimes,"  said 
Anna,  getting  bolder  by  dint  of  a  little  anger. 

"  Then  she  would  not  mind  me,"  said  Eex,  per- 
versely making  a  joke  of  poor  Anna's  anxiety. 


86  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"Oh,  Rex,  I  cannot  bear  it.  You  will  make 
yourself  very  unhappy."  Here  Anna  burst  into 
tears. 

"Nannie,  Nannie,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter 
with  you  ? "  said  Rex,  a  little  impatient  at  being 
kept  in  this  way,  hat  on  and  whip  in  hand. 

"  She  will  not  care  for  you  one  bit,  —  I  know 
she  never  will ! "  said  the  poor  child  in  a  sobbing 
whisper.     She  had  lost  all  control  of  herself. 

Rex  reddened  and  hurried  away  from  her  out  of 
the  hall  door,  leaving  her  to  the  miserable  con- 
sciousness of  having  made  herself  disagreeable  in 
vain. 

He  did  think  of  her  words  as  he  rode  along :  they 
had  the  unwelcomeness  which  all  unfavourable 
fortune-telling  has,  even  when  laughed  at ;  but  he 
quickly  explained  them  as  springing  from  little 
Anna's  tenderness,  and  began  to  be  sorry  that  he 
was  obliged  to  come  away  without  soothing  her. 
Every  other  feeling  on  the  subject,  however,  was 
quickly  merged  in  a  resistant  belief  to  the  contrary 
of  hers,  accompanied  with  a  new  determination  to 
prove  that  he  was  right.  This  sort  of  certainty 
had  just  enough  kinship  to  doubt  and  uneasiness  to 
hurry  on  a  confession  which  an  untouched  security 
might  have  delayed. 

Gwendolen  was  already  mounted  and  riding  up 
and  down  the  avenue  when  Rex  appeared  at  the 
gate.  She  had  provided  herself  against  disappoint- 
ment in  case  he  did  not  appear  in  time  by  having 
the  groom  ready  behind  her,  for  she  would  not  have 
waited  beyond  a  reasonable  time.  But  now  the 
groom  was  dismissed,  and  the  two  rode  away  in 
delightful  freedom.  Gwendolen  was  in  her  highest 
spirits,  and  Rex  thought  that  she  had  never  looked 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  87 

so  lovely  before :  her  figure,  her  long  white  throat, 
and  the  curves  of  her  cheek  and  chin  were  always 
set  off  to  perfection  by  the  compact  simplicity  of 
her  riding-dress.  He  could  not  conceive  a  more  per- 
fect girl ;  and  to  a  youthful  lover  like  Rex  it  seems 
that  the  fundamental  identity  of  the  good,  the  true, 
and  the  beautiful  is  already  extant  and  manifest  in 
the  object  of  his  love.  Most  observers  would  have 
held  it  more  than  equally  accountable  that  a  girl 
should  have  like  impressions  about  Rex,  for  in  his 
handsome  face  there  was  nothing  corresponding  to 
the  undefinable  stinging  quality  —  as  it  were  a 
trace  of  demon  ancestry  —  which  made  some  be- 
holders hesitate  in  their  admiration  of  Gwendolen, 

It  was  an  exquisite  January  morning,  in  which 
there  was  no  threat  of  rain,  but  a  gray  sky  making 
the  calmest  background  for  the  charms  of  a  mild 
winter  scene,  —  the  grassy  borders  of  the  lanes, 
the  hedgerows  sprinkled  with  red  berries  and 
haunted  with  low  twitterings,  the  purple  bareness 
of  the  elms,  the  rich  brown  of  the  furrows.  The 
horses'  hoofs  made  a  musical  chime,  accompanying 
their  young  voices.  She  was  laughing  at  his  equip- 
ment, for  he  was  the  reverse  of  a  dandy,  and  he 
was  enjoying  her  laughter:  the  freshness  of  the 
morning  mingled  with  the  freshness  of  their  youth ; 
and  every  sound  that  came  from  their  clear  throats, 
every  glance  they  gave  each  other,  was  the  bubbling 
outflow  from  a  spring  of  joy.  It  was  all  morning  to 
them,  within  and  without.  And  thinking  of  them 
in  these  moments  one  is  tempted  to  that  futile  sort 
of  wishing  —  if  only  things  could  have  been  a  little 
otherwise  then,  so  as  to  have  been  greatly  other- 
wise after !  —  if  only  these  two  beautiful  young 
creatures   could  have  pledged  themselves  to  each 


88  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

other  then  and  there,  and  never  through  life  have 
swerved  from  that  pledge !  For  some  of  the  good- 
ness which  Rex  believed  in  was  there.  Goodness 
is  a  large,  often  a  prospective  word;  like  harvest, 
which  at  one  stage  when  we  talk  of  it  lies  all 
underground,  with  an  indeterminate  future :  is  the 
germ  prospering  in  the  darkness  ?  at  another,  it  has 
put  forth  delicate  green  blades,  and  by  and  by  the 
trembling  blossoms  are  ready  to  be  dashed  off  by  an 
hour  of  rough  wind  or  rain.  Each  stage  has  its 
peculiar  blight,  and  may  have  the  healthy  life 
choked  out  of  it  by  a  particular  action  of  the  foul 
land  which  rears  or  neighbours  it,  or  by  damage 
brought  from  foulness  afar. 

"  Anna  had  got  it  into  her  head  that  you  would 
want  to  ride  after  the  hounds  this  morning,"  said 
Rex,  whose  secret  associations  with  Anna's  words 
made  this  speech  seem  quite  perilously  near  the 
most  momentous  of  subjects. 

"  Did  she  ? "  said  Gwendolen,  laughingly.  "  What 
a  little  clairvoyante  she  is ! " 

"  Shall  you  ? "  said  Rex,  who  had  not  believed  in 
her  intending  to  do  it  if  the  elders  objected,  but 
confided  in  her  having  good  reasons. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  can't  tell  what  I  shall  do 
till  I  get  there.  Clairvoyantes  are  often  wrong: 
they  foresee  what  is  likely.  I  am  not  fond  of 
what  is  likely ;  it  is  always  dull.  I  do  what  is 
unlikely." 

"  Ah,  there  you  tell  me  a  secret.  When  once  I 
knew  what  people  in  general  would  be  likely  to  do, 
I  should  know  you  would  do  the  opposite.  So  you 
would  have  come  round  to  a  likelihood  of  your 
own  sort.  I  shall  be  able  to  calculate  on  you. 
You  couldn't  surprise  me." 


THE  SPOILED  CniLB.  8^ 

"  Yes,  I  could.  I  should  turn  round  and  do  what 
was  likely  for  people  in  general,"  said  Gwendolen, 
with  a  musical  laugh. 

"  You  see  you  can't  escape  some  sort  of  likeli- 
hood. And  contradictoriness  makes  the  strongest 
likelihood  of  all.     You  must  give  up  a  plan." 

"  No,  I  shall  not.  My  plan  is  to  do  what  pleases 
me."  (Here  should  any  young  lady  incline  to  imi- 
tate Gwendolen,  let  her  consider  the  set  of  her 
head  and  neck  :  if  the  angle  there  had  been  differ- 
ent, the  chin  protrusive,  and  the  cervical  vertebrae 
a  trifle  more  curved  in  their  position,  ten  to  one 
Gwendolen's  words  would  have  had  a  jar  in  them 
for  the  sweet-natured  Kex.  But  everything  odd 
in  her  speech  was  humour  and  pretty  banter,  which 
he  was  only  anxious  to  turn  towards  one  point.) 

"  Can  you  manage  to  feel  only  what  pleases 
you  ? "  said  ha 

"  Of  course  not ;  that  comes  from  what  other 
people  do.  But  if  the  world  were  pleasanter,  one 
would  only  feel  what  was  pleasant.  Girls'  lives 
are  so  stupid :  they  never  do  what  they  like." 

"  I  thought  that  was  more  the  case  of  the  men. 
They  are  forced  to  do  hard  things,  and  are  often 
dreadfully  bored,  and  knocked  to  pieces  too.  And 
then,  if  we  love  a  girl  very  dearly  we  want  to  do  as 
she  likes ;  so  after  all  you  have  your  own  way." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  I  never  saw  a  married 
woman  who  had  her  own  way." 

"  What  should  you  like  to  do  ?  "  said  Rex,  quite 
guilelessly,  and  in  real  anxiety. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  —  go  to  the  North  Pole,  or 
ride  steeplechases,  or  go  to  be  a  queen  in  the  East 
like  Lady  Hester  Stanhope,"  said  Gwendolen,  flight- 
ily.     Her  words  were  born  on   her  lips,  but  she 


90  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

would  have  been  at  a  loss  to  give  an  answer  of 
deeper  origin. 

"  You  don't  mean  you  would  never  be  married  ? " 

"  No  ;  I  did  n't  say  that.  Only  when  I  married, 
I  should  not  do  as  other  women  do." 

"  You  might  do  just  as  you  liked  if  you  married 
a  man  who  loved  you  more  dearly  than  anything 
else  in  the  world,"  said  Rex,  who,  poor  youth,  was 
moving  in  themes  outside  the  curriculum  in  which 
he  had  promised  to  win  distinction.  "  I  know  one 
who  does." 

"Don't  talk  of  Mr.  Middleton,  for  heaven's  sake," 
said  Gwendolen,  hastily,  a  quick  blush  spreading 
over  her  face  and  neck ;  "  that  is  Anna's  chant.  I 
hear  the  hounds.     Let  us  go  on." 

She  put  her  chestnut  to  a  canter,  and  Rex  had  no 
choice  but  to  follow  lier.  Still  he  felt  encouraged. 
Gwendolen  was  perfectly  aware  that  her  cousin  was 
in  love  with  her;  but  she  had  no  idea  that  the 
matter  was  of  any  consequence,  having  never  had 
the  slightest  visitation  of  painful  love  herself.  She 
wished  the  small  romance  of  Rex's  devotion  to  fill 
up  the  time  of  his  stay  at  Pennicote,  and  to  avoid 
explanations  which  would  bring  it  to  an  untimely 
end.  Besides,  she  objected,  with  a  sort  of  physical 
repulsion,  to  being  directly  made  love  to.  With 
all  her  imaginative  delight  in  being  adored,  there 
^jras  a  certain  fierceness  of  maidenhood  in  her. 

But  all  other  thoughts  were  soon  lost  for  her  in 
the  excitement  of  the  scene  at  the  Three  Barns. 
Several  gentlemen  of  the  hunt  knew  her,  and  she 
exchanged  pleasant  greetings.  Rex  could  not  get 
another  word  with  her.  The  colour,  the  stir  of 
the  field  had  taken  pos.session  of  Gwendolen  with 
a  strength  which  was  not  due  to  habitual  associa- 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  91 

tion,  for  she  had  never  yet  ridden  after  the 
hounds,  —  only  said  she  should  like  to  do  it,  and 
so  drawn  forth  a  prohibition  ;  her  mamma  dreading 
th^  danger,  and  her  uncle  declaring  that  for  his 
part  he  held  that  kind  of  violent  exercise  unseemly 
in  a  woman,  and  that  whatever  might  be  done  in 
other  parts  of  the  country,  no  lady  of  good  position 
followed  the  Wessex  hunt :  no  one  but  Mrs.  Gads- 
by,  the  yeomanry  captain's  wife,  who  had  been  a 
kitchen-maid,  and  still  spoke  like  one.  This  last 
argument  had  some  effect  on  Gwendolen,  and  had 
kept  her  halting  between  her  desire  to  assert  her 
freedom  and  her  horror  of  being  classed  with 
Mrs.  Gadsby. 

Some  of  the  most  unexceptionable  women  in  the 
neighbourhood  occasionally  went  to  see  the  hounds 
throw  off ;  but  it  happened  that  none  of  them  were 
present  this  morning  to  abstain  from  following, 
while  Mrs.  Gadsby,  with  her  doubtful  antecedents, 
grammatical  and  otherwise,  was  not  visible  to  make 
following  seem  unbecoming.  Thus  Gwendolen  felt 
no  check  on  the  animal  stimulus  that  came  from 
the  stir  and  tongue  of  the  hounds,  the  pawing  of 
the  horses,  the  varying  voices  of  men,  the  move- 
ment hither  and  thither  of  vivid  colour  on  the  back- 
ground of  green  and  gray  stillness,  —  that  utmost 
excitement  of  the  coming  chase  which  consists  in 
feeling  something  like  a  combination  of  dog  and 
horse,  with  the  superadded  thrill  of  social  vanities 
and  consciousness  of  centaur-power  which  belong  to 
humankind. 

Rex  would  have  felt  more  of  the  same  enjoyment 
if  he  could  have  kept  nearer  to  Gwendolen,  and  not 
seen  her  constantly  occupied  with  acquaintances,  or 
looked  at  by  would-be  acquaintances,  all  on  lively 


94  DANIEL  DERONBA. 

horses  which  veered  about  and  swept  the  surround* 
ing  space  as  effectually  as  a  revolving  lever. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  here  this  fine  morning,  Miss  Har- 
leth,"  said  Lord  Brackenshaw,  a  middle-aged  peer  of 
aristocratic  seediness  in  stained  pink,  with  easy-going 
manners  which  would  have  made  the  threatened 
Deluge  seem  of  no  consequence.  "We  shall  have  a 
first-rate  run.  A  pity  you  don't  go  with  us.  Have 
you  ever  tried  your  little  chestnut  at  a  ditch  ?  You 
wouldn't  be  afraid,  eh?" 

"Not  the  least  in  the  world,"  said  Gwendolen. 
And  this  was  true ;  she  was  never  fearful  in  action 
and  companionship.  "I  have  often  taken  him  at 
some  rails  and  a  ditch  too,  near — " 

"  Ah,  by  Jove ! "  said  his  lordship,  quietly,  in 
notation  that  something  was  happening  which  must 
break  off  the  dialogue ;  and  as  he  reined  off  his  horse, 
Eex  was  bringing  his  sober  hackney  up  to  Gwen- 
dolen's side  when  —  the  hounds  gave  tongue,  and 
the  whole  field  was  in  motion  as  if  the  whirl  of  the 
earth  were  carrying  it :  Gwendolen  along  with  every- 
thing else ;  no  word  of  notice  to  Rex,  who  without 
a  second  thought  followed  too.  Could  he  let  Gwen- 
dolen go  alone  ?  Under  other  circumstances  he  would 
have  enjoyed  the  run,  but  he  was  just  now  perturbed 
by  the  check  which  had  been  put  on  the  impetus  to 
utter  his  love,  and  get  utterance  in  return,  —  an  im- 
petus which  could  not  at  once  resolve  itself  into  a 
totally  different  sort  of  chase,  at  least  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  being  on  his  father's  gray  nag,  a  good 
horse  enough  in  his  way,  but  of  sober  years  and 
ecclesiastical  habits.  Gwendolen  on  her  spirited 
little  chestnut  was  up  with  the  best,  and  felt  as 
secure  as  an  immortal  goddess,  having,  if  she  had 
thought  of  risk,  a  core  of  confidence  that  no  ill  luck 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  93 

would  happen  to  her.  But  she  thought  of  no  such 
thing,  and  certainly  not  of  any  risk  there  might  be 
for  her  cousin.  If  she  had  thought  of  him,  it  would 
have  struck  her  as  a  droll  picture  that  he  should  be 
gradually  falling  behind,  and  looking  round  in  search 
of  gates :  a  fine  lithe  youth,  whose  heart  must  be 
panting  with  all  the  spirit  of  a  beagle,  stuck  as  if 
under  a  wizard's  spell  on  a  stiff  clerical  hackney, 
would  have  made  her  laugh  with  a  sense  of  fun 
much  too  strong  for  her  to  reflect  on  his  mortifica- 
tion. But  Gwendolen  was  apt  to  think  rather  of 
those  who  saw  her  than  of  those  whom  she  could 
not  see ;  and  Rex  was  soon  so  far  behind  that  if  she 
had  looked  she  would  not  have  seen  him.  For  I 
grieve  to  say  that  in  the  search  for  a  gate,  along  a  lane 
lately  mended.  Primrose  fell,  broke  his  knees,  and 
undesignedly  threw  Rex  over  his  head. 

Fortunately  a  blacksmith's  son  who  also  followed 
the  hounds  under  disadvantages,  namely,  on  foot  (a 
loose  way  of  hunting  which  had  struck  some  even 
frivolous  minds  as  immoral),  was  naturally  also  in 
the  rear,  and  happened  to  be  within  sight  of  Rex's 
misfortune.  He  ran  to  give  help  which  was  greatly 
needed,  for  Rex  was  a  good  deal  stunned,  and  the 
complete  recovery  of  sensation  came  in  the  form  of 
pain.  Joel  Dagge  on  this  occasion  showed  himself 
that  most  useful  of  personages,  whose  knowledge  is 
of  a  kind  suited  to  the  immediate  occasion :  he  not 
only  knew  perfectly  well  what  was  the  matter  with 
the  horse,  how  far  they  were  both  from  the  nearest 
public-house  and  from  Pennicote  Rectory,  and  could 
certify  to  Rex  that  his  shoulder  was  only  a  bit  out 
of  joint,  but  also  offered  experienced  surgical  aid. 

"  Lord,  sir,  let  me  shove  it  in  again  for  you !  I 's 
see  Nash  the  bone-setter  do  it,  and  done  it  myself 


94  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

for  our  little  Sally  twice  over.  It 's  all  one  and  the 
same,  shoulders  is.  If  you  '11  trusten  to  me  and 
tighten  your  mind  up  a  bit,  I  '11  do  it  for  you  in  no 
time." 

"Come  then,  old  fellow,"  said  Eex,  who  could 
tighten  his  mind  better  than  his  seat  in  the  saddle. 
And  Joel  managed  the  operation,  though  not  with- 
out considerable  expense  of  pain  to  his  patient,  who 
turned  so  pitiably  pale  while  tightening  his  mind, 
that  Joel  remarked :  "  Ah,  sir,  you  are  n't  used  to  it, 
that 's  how  it  is.  I 's  see  lots  and  lots  o'  joints  out. 
I  see  a  man  with  his  eye  pushed  out  once,  —  that 
was  a  rum  go  as  ever  I  see.  You  can't  have  a  bit 
o'  fun  wi'out  such  a  sort  o'  things.  But  it  went  in 
again.  I's  swallowed  three  teeth  mysen,  as  sure 
as  I'm  alive.  Now,  sirrey"  (this  was  addressed  to 
Primrose), "  come  alonk,  —  you  must  n't  make  believe 
as  you  can't" 

Joel  being  clearly  a  low  character,  it  is  happily 
not  necessary  to  say  more  of  him  to  the  refined 
reader  than  that  he  helped  Eex  to  get  home  with  as 
little  delay  as  possible.  There  was  no  alternative 
but  to  get  home,  though  all  the  while  he  was  in 
anxiety  about  Gwendolen,  and  more  miserable  in  the 
thought  that  she  too  might  have  had  an  accident, 
than  in  the  pain  of  his  own  bruises  and  the  annoyance 
he  was  about  to  cause  his  father.  He  comforted 
himself  about  her  by  reflecting  that  every  one  would 
be  anxious  to  take  care  of  her,  and  that  some  ac- 
quaintance would  be  sure  to  conduct  her  home. 

Mr,  Gascoigne  was  already  at  home,  and  was 
writing  letters  in  his  study,  when  he  was  interrupted 
by  seeing  poor  Eex  come  in  with  a  face  which  was 
not  the  less  handsome  and  ingratiating  for  being  pale 
and  a  little  distressed.     He  was  secretly  the  favourite 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  95 

son,  and  a  young  portrait  of  the  father ;  who,  how- 
ever, never  treated  him  with  any  partiality,  —  rather, 
w^ith  an  extra  rigour.  Mr.  Gascoigne,  having  inquired 
of  Anna,  knew  that  Rex  had  gone  with  Gwendolen 
to  the  meet  at  the  Three  Barns. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ? "  he  said  hastily,  not  laying 
down  his  pen, 

"I'm  very  sorry,  sir;  Primrose  has  fallen  down 
and  broken  his  knees." 

"  Where  have  you  been  with  him  ? "  said  Mr. 
Gascoigne,  with  a  touch  of  severity.  He  rarely 
gave  way  to  temper. 

"  To  the  Three  Barns  to  see  the  hounds  throw  off.** 

"  And  you  were  fool  enough  to  follow  ? " 

"Yes,  sir.  I  didn't  go  at  any  fences,  but  the 
horse  got  his  leg  into  a  hole." 

"  And  you  got  hurt  yourself,  I  hope,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  got  my  shoulder  put  out,  but  a  young  black- 
smith put  it  in  again  for  me.  I'm  just  a  little 
battered,  that 's  all." 

"  Well,  sit  down." 

"  I  'm  very  sorry  about  the  horse,  sir.  I  knew  it 
would  be  a  vexation  to  you." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  Gwendolen  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Gascoigne,  abruptly.  Rex,  who  did  not  imagine  that 
his  father  had  made  any  inquiries  about  him, 
answered  at  first  with  a  blush  which  was  the  more 
remarkable  for  his  previous  paleness.  Then  he 
said  nervously,  — 

"  I  am  anxious  to  know  —  I  should  like  to  go  or 
send  at  once  to  Offendene  —  but  she  rides  so  well, 
and  I  think  she  would  keep  up  —  there  would  most 
likely  be  many  round  her." 

"  I  suppose  it  was  she  who  led  you  on,  eh  ? "  said 
Mr.  Gascoigne,  laying  down  his  pen,  leaning  back 


96  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

in  his  chair,  and  looking  at  Rex  with  more  marked 
examination. 

"It  was  natural  for  her  to  want  to  go ;  she  didn't 
intend  it  beforehand,  —  she  was  led  away  by  the 
spirit  of  the  thing.  And  of  course  I  went  when 
she  went." 

Mr.  Gascoigne  left  a  brief  interval  of  silence,  and 
then  said  with  quiet  irony :  "  But  now  you  observe, 
young  gentleman,  that  you  are  not  furnished  with  a 
horse  which  will  enable  you  to  play  the  squire  to  your 
cousin.  You  must  give  up  that  amusement.  You 
have  spoiled  my  nag  for  me,  and  that  is  enough 
mischief  for  one  vacation.  I  shall  beg  you  to  get 
ready  to  start  for  Southampton  to-morrow  and  join 
Stilfox,  till  you  go  up  to  Oxford  with  him.  That 
will  be  good  for  your  bruises  as  well  as  your 
studies." 

Poor  Rex  felt  his  heart  swelling  and  comporting 
itself  as  if  it  had  been  no  better  than  a  girl's. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  insist  on  my  going  imme- 
diately, sir." 

"  Do  you  feel  too  ill  ? " 

"  No,  not  that  —  but  —  "  Here  Rex  bit  his  lips 
and  felt  the  tears  starting,  to  his  great  vexation ; 
then  he  rallied  and  tried  to  say  more  firmly,  "  I 
want  to  go  to  Ofifendene  —  but  I  can  go  this 
evening." 

"I  am  going  there  myself.  I  can  bring  word 
about  Gwendolen,  if  that  is  what  you  want." 

Rex  broke  down.  He  thought  he  discerned  an 
intention  fatal  to  his  happiness,  nay,  his  life.  He 
was  accustomed  to  believe  in  his  father's  pene- 
tration, and  to  expect  firmness.  "Father,  I  can't 
go  away  without  telling  her  that  I  love  her,  and 
knowing  that  she  loves  me." 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  97 

Mr.  Gascoigne  was  inwardly  going  through  some 
self-rebuke  for  not  being  more  wary,  and  was  now 
really  sorry  for  the  lad ;  but  every  consideration 
was  subordinate  to  that  of  using  the  wisest  tactics 
in  the  case.  He  had  quickly  made  up  his  mind, 
and  could  answer  the  more  quietly,  — 

"  My  dear  boy,  you  are  too  young  to  be  taking 
momentous,  decisive  steps  of  that  sort.  This  is  a 
fancy  which  you  have  got  into  your  head  during  an 
idle  week  or  two :  you  must  set  to  work  at  some- 
thing and  dismiss  it.  There  is  every  reason  against 
it.  An  engagement  at  your  age  would  be  totally 
rash  and  unjustifiable ;  and  moreover,  alliances 
between  first  cousins  are  undesirable.  Make  up 
your  mind  to  a  brief  disappointment.  Life  is  full 
of  them.  We  have  all  got  to  be  broken  in  ;  and 
this  is  a  mild  beginning  for  you." 

"  No,  not  mild.  I  can't  bear  it.  I  shall  be  good 
for  nothing.  I  should  n't  mind  anything,  if  it  were 
settled  between  us.  I  could  do  anything  then," 
said  Eex,  impetuously.  "  But  it 's  of  no  use  to  pre- 
tend that  I  will  obey  you.  I  can't  do  it.  If  I 
said  I  would,  I  should  be  sure  to  break  my  word. 
I  should  see  Gwendolen  again." 

"  "Well,  wait  till  to-morrow  morning,  that  we  may 
talk  of  the  matter  again,  —  you  will  promise  me 
that,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne,  quietly ;  and  Rex  did  not, 
could  not  refuse. 

The  Rector  did  not  even  tell  his  wife  that  he  had 
any  other  reason  for  going  to  Offendene  that  even- 
ing than  his  desire  to  ascertain  that  Gwendolen  had 
got  home  safely.  He  found  her  more  than  safe, — 
elated.  Mr.  Quallon,  who  had  won  the  brush,  had 
delivered  the  trophy  to  her,  and  she  had  brought  it 
before  her,  fastened  on  the  saddle ;  more  than  that, 

VOL.  I.  —  7 


98  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

Lord  Brackenshaw  had  conducted  her  home,  and 
had  shown  himself  delighted  with  her  spirited  rid- 
ing. All  this  was  told  at  once  to  her  uncle,  that  he 
might  see  how  well  justified  she  had  been  in  acting 
against  his  advice ;  and  the  prudential  Rector  did 
feel  himself  in  a  slight  difficulty,  for  at  that  moment 
he  was  particularly  sensible  that  it  was  his  niece's 
serious  interest  to  be  well  regarded  by  the  Bracken- 
shaws,  and  their  opinion  as  to  her  following  the 
hounds  really  touched  the  essence  of  his  objection. 
However,  he  was  not  obliged  to  say  anything 
immediately,  for  Mrs.  Davilow  followed  up  Gwen- 
dolen's brief  triumphant  phrases  with,  — 

"  Still,  I  do  hope  you  will  not  do  it  again,  Gwen- 
dolen. I  should  never  have  a  moment's  quiet. 
Her  father  died  by  an  accident,  you  know." 

Here  Mrs.  Davilow  had  turned  away  from  Gwen- 
dolen, and  looked  at  Mr.  Gascoigne. 

"  Mamma  dear,"  said  Gwendolen,  kissing  her  mer- 
rily, and  passing  over  the  question  of  the  fears 
which  Mrs.  Davilow  had  meant  to  account  for, 
"  children  don't  take  after  their  parents  in  broken 
legs." 

Not  one  word  had  yet  been  said  about  Rex.  In 
fact,  there  had  been  no  anxiety  about  him  at 
Offendene.  Gwendolen  had  observed  to  her  mamma, 
"  Oh,  he  must  have  been  left  far  behind,  and  gone 
home  in  despair,"  and  it  could  not  be  denied  that 
this  was  fortunate  so  far  as  it  made  way  for  Lord 
Brackenshaw's  bringing  her  home.  But  now  Mr. 
Gascoigne  said,  with  some  emphasis,  looking  at 
Gwendolen, — 

"  Well,  the  exploit  has  ended  better  for  you  than 
for  Rex." 

"Yes,   I  dare   say  he   had   to   make  a   terrible 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  99 

round.  You  have  not  taught  Primrose  to  take  the 
fences,  uncle,"  said  Gwendolen,  without  the  faintest 
shade  of  alarm  in  her  looks  and  tone. 

"  Rex  has  had  a  fall,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne,  curtly, 
throwing  himself  into  an  arm-chair,  resting  his 
elbows  and  fitting  his  palms  and  fingers  together, 
while  he  closed  his  lips  and  looked  at  Gwendolen, 
who  said,  — 

"  Oh,  poor  fellow  !  he  is  not  hurt,  I  hope  ? "  with 
a  correct  look  of  anxiety  such  as  elated  mortals  try 
to  superinduce  when  their  pulses  are  all  the  while 
quick  with  triumph;  and  Mrs.  Davilow,  in  the 
same  moment,  uttered  a  low  "  Good  heavens ! 
There ! " 

Mr.  Gascoigne  went  on :  "  He  put  his  shoulder 
out,  and  got  some  bruises,  I  believe."  Here  he 
made  another  little  pause  of  observation;  but 
Gwendolen,  instead  of  any  such  symptoms  as  pallor 
and  silence,  had  only  deepened  the  compassionate- 
ness  of  her  brow  and  eyes,  and  said  again,  "  Oh, 
poor  fellow !  it  is  nothing  serious,  then  ?  "  and  Mr. 
Gascoigne  held  his  diagnosis  complete.  But  he 
wished  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  and  went 
on  still  with  a  purpose. 

"  He  got  his  arm  set  again  rather  oddly.  Some 
blacksmith  —  not  a  parishioner  of  mine  —  was  on 
the  field, —  a  loose  fish,  I  suppose,  but  handy,  and 
set  the  arm  for  him  immediately.  So  after  all,  I 
believe,  I  and  Primrose  come  off  worst.  The 
horse's  knees  are  cut  to  pieces.  He  came  down  in 
a  hole,  it  seems,  and  pitched  Rex  over  his  head." 

Gwendolen's  face  had  allowably  become  contented 
again,  since  Rex's  arm  had  been  reset ;  and  now,  at 
the  descriptive  suggestions  in  the  latter  part  of  her 
uncle's  speech,  her  elated  spirits  made  her  features 


loo  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

less  manageable  than  usual ;  the  smiles  broke  forth, 
and  finally  a  descending  scale  of  laughter. 

"  You  are  a  pretty  young  lady  —  to  laugh  at 
other  people's  calamities,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne,  with 
a  milder  sense  of  disapprobation  than  if  he  had  not 
had  counteracting  reasons  to  be  glad  that  Gwendo- 
len showed  no  deep  feeling  on  the  occasion. 

"  Pray  forgive  me,  uncle.  Now  Eex  is  safe,  it  is 
so  droll  to  fancy  the  figure  he  and  Primrose  would 
cut  —  in  a  lane  all  by  themselves  —  only  a  black- 
smith running  up.  It  would  make  a  capital  cari- 
cature of  '  Following  the  hounds.'  " 

Gwendolen  rather  valued  herself  on  her  superior 
freedom  in  laughing  where  others  might  only  see 
matter  for  seriousness.  Indeed,  the  laughter  became 
her  person  so  well  that  her  opinion  of  its  graceful- 
ness was  often  shared  by  others  ;  and  it  even  entered 
into  her  uncle's  course  of  thought  at  this  moment, 
that  it  was  no  wonder  a  boy  should  be  fascinated 
by  this  young  witch, —  who,  however,  was  more 
mischievous  than  could  be  desired. 

"  How  can  you  laugh  at  broken  bones,  child  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Davilow,  still  under  her  dominant  anxiety. 
"  I  wish  we  had  never  allowed  you  to  have  the  horse. 
You  will  see  that  we  were  wrong,"  she  added,  look- 
ing with  a  grave  nod  at  Mr.  Gascoigne,  —  "  at  least 
I  was,  to  encourage  her  in  asking  for  it." 

"  Yes,  seriously,  Gwendolen,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne, 
in  a  judicious  tone  of  rational  advice  to  a  person 
understood  to  be  altogether  rational,  "  I  strongly 
recommend  you  —  I  shall  ask  you  to  oblige  me  so 
far —  not  to  repeat  your  adventure  of  to-day.  Lord 
Brackenshaw  is  very  kind,  but  I  feel  sure  that  he 
would  concur  with  me  in  what  I  say.  To  be  spoken 
of  as  '  tlie  young  lady  who  hunts '  by  way  of  excep- 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  loi 

tion,  would  give  a  tone  to  the  language  about  you 
which  I  am  sure  you  would  not  like.  Depend  upon 
it,  his  lordship  would  not  choose  that  Lady  Beatrice 
or  Lady  Maria  should  hunt  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  if  they  were  old  enough  to  do  so.  When 
you  are  married,  it  will  be  different :  you  may  do 
whatever  your  husband  sanctions.  But  if  you 
intend  to  hunt,  you  must  marry  a  man  who  can 
keep  horses." 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  do  anything  so  hor- 
rible as  to  marry  without  that  prospect,  at  least,"  said 
Gwendolen,  pettishly.  Her  uncle's  speech  had  given 
her  annoyance,  which  she  could  not  show  more 
directly  ;  but  she  felt  that  she  was  committing  her- 
self, and  after  moving  carelessly  to  another  part  of 
the  room,  went  out. 

"  She  always  speaks  in  that  way  about  marriage," 
said  Mrs.  Davilow  ;  "  but  it  will  be  different  when 
she  has  seen  the  right  person." 

"  Her  heart  has  never  been  in  the  least  touched, 
that  you  know  of  ?  "  said  Mr.  Gascoigne. 

Mrs.  Davilow  shook  her  head  silently.  "  It  was 
only  last  night  she  said  to  me,  '  Mamma,  I  wonder 
how  girls  manage  to  fall  in  love.  It  is  easy  to  make 
them  do  it  in  books.     But  men  are  too  ridiculous.' " 

Mr.  Gascoigne  laughed  a  little,  and  made  no 
further  remark  on  the  subject.  The  next  morning 
at  breakfast  he  said, — 

"  How  are  your  bruises,  Eex  ? " 

"  Oh,  not  very  mellow  yet,  sir ;  only  beginning  to 
turn  a  little." 

"You  don't  feel  quite  ready  for  a  journey  to 
Southampton  ? " 

"  Not  quite,"  answered  Eex,  with  his  heart  meta- 
phorically in  his  mouth. 


102  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  Well,  you  can  wait  till  to-morrow,  and  go  to 
say  good-by  to  them  at  Ofifendene." 

Mrs.  Gascoigne,  who  now  knew  the  whole  affair, 
looked  steadily  at  her  coffee  lest  she  also  should 
begin  to  cry,  as  Anna  was  doing  already. 

Mr.  Gascoigne  felt  that  he  was  applying  a  sharp 
remedy  to  poor  Rex's  acute  attack,  but  he  believed 
it  to  be  in  the  end  the  kindest.  To  let  him  know 
the  hopelessness  of  his  love  from  Gwendolen's 
own  lips  might  be  curative  in  more  ways  than 
one. 

"I  can  only  be  thankful  that  she  doesn't  care 
about  him,"  said  Mrs.  Gascoigne,  when  she  joined 
her  husband  in  his  study.  "  There  are  things  in 
Gwendolen  I  cannot  reconcile  myself  to.  My  Anna 
is  worth  two  of  her,  with  all  her  beauty  and  talent. 
It  looks  so  very  ill  in  her  that  she  will  not  help  in  the 
schools  with  Anna,  —  not  even  in  the  Sunday-school, 
What  you  or  I  advise  is  of  no  consequence  to  her ; 
and  poor  Fanny  is  completely  under  her  thumb. 
But  I  know  you  think  better  of  her,"  Mrs.  Gascoigne 
ended  with  a  deferential  hesitation. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  there  is  no  harm  in  the  girl.  It 
is  only  that  she  has  a  high  spirit,  and  it  will  not  do 
to  hold  the  reins  too  tight.  The  point  is,  to  get  her 
well  married.  She  has  a  little  too  much  fire  in  her 
for  her  present  life  with  her  mother  and  sisters.  It 
is  natural  and  right  that  she  should  be  married  soon, 
—  not  to  a  poor  man,  but  one  who  can  give  her  a 
fitting  position." 

Presently  Rex,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  was  on 
his  two  miles'  walk  to  Offendene.  He  was  rather 
puzzled  by .  the  unconditional  permission  to  see 
Gwendolen,  but  his  father's  real  ground  of  action 
could  not  enter  into  his  conjectures.     If  it  had,  he 


TUE  SPOILED  CHILD.  103 

would  first  have  thought  it  horribly  cold-blooded, 
and  then  have  disbelieved  in  his  father's  conclusions. 

When  he  got  to  the  house,  everybody  was  there 
but  Gwendolen.  The  four  girls,  hearing  him  speak 
in  the  hall,  rushed  out  of  the  library,  which  was  their 
schoolroom,  and  hung  round  him  with  compassion- 
ate inquiries  about  his  arm.  Mrs.  Davilow  wanted 
to  know  exactly  what  had  happened,  and  where  the 
blacksmith  lived,  that  she  might  make  him  a  pre- 
sent; while  Miss  Merry,  who  took  a  subdued  and 
melancholy  part  in  all  family  affairs,  doubted  whether 
it  would  not  be  giving  too  much  encouragement  to 
that  kind  of  character.  Rex  had  never  found  the 
family  troublesome  before,  but  just  now  he  wished 
them  all  away  and  Gwendolen  there,  and  he  was 
too  uneasy  for  good-natured  feigning.  When  at  last 
he  had  said,  "  Where  is  Gwendolen  ? "  and  Mrs. 
Davilow  had  told  Alice  to  go  and  see  if  her  sister 
were  come  down,  adding,  "  I  sent  up  her  break- 
fast this  morning ;  she  needed  a  long  rest,"  —  Rex 
took  the  shortest  way  out  of  his  endurance  by  say- 
ing, almost  impatiently,  "  Aunt,  I  want  to  speak  to 
Gwendolen,  —  I  want  to  see  her  alone." 

"Very  well,  dear;  go  into  the  drawing-room.  I 
will  send  her  there,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  who  had 
observed  that  he  was  fond  of  being  with  Gwendolen, 
as  was  natural,  but  had  not  thought  of  this  as  hav- 
ing any  bearing  on  the  realities  of  life :  it  seemed 
merely  part  of  the  Christmas  holidays  which  were 
spinning  themselves  out 

Rex  for  his  part  felt  that  the  realities  of  life  were 
all  hanging  on  this  interview.  He  had  to  walk  up 
and  down  the  drawing-room  in  expectation  for  nearly 
ten  minutes,  —  ample  space  for  all  imaginative  fluc- 
tuations ;  yet,  strange  to  say,  he  was  unvaryingly 


104  DANIEL  DERONDA, 

occupied  in  thinking  what  and  how  much  he  could 
do,  when  Gwendolen  had  accepted  him,  to  satisfy 
his  father  that  the  engagement  was  the  most  pru- 
dent thing  in  the  world,  since  it  inspired  him  with 
double  energy  for  work.  He  was  to  be  a  lawyer, 
and  what  reason  was  there  why  he  should  not  rise 
as  high  as  Eldon  did  ?  He  was  forced  to  look  at 
life  in  the  light  of  his  father's  mind. 

But  when  the  door  opened  and  she  whose  pre- 
sence he  was  longing  for  entered,  there  came  over 
him  suddenly  and  mysteriously  a  state  of  tremor 
and  distrust  which  he  had  never  felt  before.  Miss 
Gwendolen,  simple  as  she  stood  there,  in  her  black 
silk,  cut  square  about  the  round  white  pillar  of 
her  throat,  a  black  band  fastening  her  hair  which 
streamed  backwards  in  smooth  silky  abundance, 
seemed  more  queenly  than  usual.  Perhaps  it  was 
that  there  was  none  of  tlie  latent  fun  and  tricksi- 
ness  which  had  always  pierced  in  her  greeting  of 
Rex.  How  much  of  this  was  due  to  her  presenti- 
ment from  what  he  had  said  yesterday  that  he  was 
going  to  talk  of  love  ?  How  much  from  her  desire 
to  show  regret  about  his  accident  ?  Something  of 
both.  But  the  wisdom  of  ages  has  hinted  that  there 
is  a  side  of  the  bed  which  has  a  malign  influence  if 
you  happen  to  get  out  on  it ;  and  this  accident  befalls 
some  charming  persons  rather  frequently.  Perhaps 
it  had  befallen  Gwendolen  this  morning.  The  hast- 
ening of  her  toilet,  the  way  in  which  Bugle  used 
the  brush,  the  quality  of  the  shilling  serial  mis- 
takenly written  for  her  amusement,  the  probabilities 
of  the  coming  day,  and,  in  short,  social  institutions 
generally,  were  all  objectionable  to  her.  It  was  not 
that  she  was  out  of  temper,  but  that  the  world  was 
not  equal  to  the  demands  of  her  fine  organism. 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  105 

However  it  might  be,  Eex  saw  an  awful  majesty 
about  her  as  she  entered  and  put  out  her  hand  to 
him,  without  the  least  approach  to  a  smile  in  eyes 
or  mouth.  The  fun  which  had  moved  her  in  the 
evening  had  quite  evaporated  from  the  image  of  his 
accident,  and  the  whole  affair  seemed  stupid  to  her. 
But  she  said  with  perfect  propriety, "  I  hope  you  are 
not  much  hurt,  Rex ;  I  deserve  that  you  should  re- 
proach me  for  your  accident." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Eex,  feeling  the  soul  within  him 
spreading  itself  like  an  attack  of  illness.  "There  is 
hardly  anything  the  matter  with  me.  I  am  so  glad 
you  had  the  pleasure  :  I  would  willingly  pay  for  it 
by  a  tumble,  only  I  was  sorry  to  break  the  horse's 
knees." 

Gwendolen  walked  to  the  hearth,  and  stood  look- 
ing at  the  fire  in  the  most  inconvenient  way  for  con- 
versation, so  that  he  could  only  get  a  side  view  of 
her  face. 

"  My  father  wants  me  to  go  to  Southampton  for 
the  rest  of  the  vacation,"  said  Rex,  his  barytone 
trembling  a  little. 

"  Southampton !  That 's  a  stupid  place  to  go  to, 
is  n't  it  ? "  said  Gwendolen,  chilly. 

"  It  would  be  to  me,  because  you  would  not  be 
there." 

Silence.  -^^ 

"  Should  you  mind  about  my  going  away, 
Gwendolen  ? " 

"  Of  course.  Every  one  is  of  consequence  in  this 
dreary  country,"  said  Gwendolen,  curtly.  The  per- 
ception that  poor  Rex  wanted  to  be  tender  made 
her  curl  up  and  harden  like  a  sea-anemone  at  the 
touch  of  a  finger. 

"  Are  you  angry  with  me,  Gwendolen  ?     Why  do 


io6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

you  treat  me  in  this  way  all  at  once  ? "  said  Rex, 
flushing,  and  with  more  spirit  in  his  voice,  as  if  he 
too  were  capable  of  being  angry. 

Gwendolen  looked  round  at  him  and  smiled. 
"  Treat  you  ?  Nonsense  I  I  am  only  rather  cross. 
Why  did  you  come  so  very  early  ?  You  must  ex- 
pect to  find  tempers  in  dishabille." 

"  Be  as  cross  with  me  as  you  like,  —  only  don't 
treat  me  with  indifference,"  said  Rex,  imploringly. 
"  All  the  happiness  of  my  life  depends  on  your  lov- 
ing me — if  only  a  little — better  than  any  one 
else." 

He  tried  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  hastily  eluded 
his  grasp,  and  moved  to  the  other  end  of  the  hearth, 
facing  him. 

"  Pray  don't  make  love  to  me  !  I  hate  it"  She 
looked  at  him  fiercely. 

Rex  turned  pale  and  was  silent,  but  could  not 
take  his  eyes  off  her,  and  the  impetus  was  not  yet 
exhausted  that  made  hers  dart  death  at  him.  Gwen- 
dolen herself  could  not  have  foreseen  that  she  should 
feel  in  this  way.  It  was  all  a  sudden,  new  experi- 
ence to  her.  The  day  before  she  had  been  quite 
aware  that  her  cousin  was  in  love  with  her, — she 
did  not  mind  how  much,  so  that  he  said  nothing 
about  it;  and  if  any  one  had  asked  her  why  she 
objected  to  love-making  speeches,  she  would  have 
said  laughingly, "  Oh,  I  am  tired  of  them  all  in  the 
books."  But  now  the  life  of  passion  had  begun 
negatively  in  her.  She  felt  passionately  averse  to 
this  volunteered  love. 

To  Rex  at  twenty  the  joy  of  life  seemed  at  an 
end  more  absolutely  than  it  can  do  to  a  man  at 
forty.  But  before  they  had  ceased  to  look  at  each 
other,  he  did  speak  again. 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  107 

"Is  that  the  last  word  you  have  to  say  to  m^ 
Gwendolen  ?     Will  it  always  be  so  ? " 

She  could  not  help  seeing  his  wretchedness  and 
feeling  a  little  regret  for  the  old  Rex  who  had  not 
offended  her.  Decisively,  but  yet  with  some  return 
of  kindliness,  she  said,  — 

"  About  making  love  ?  Yes.  But  I  don't  dislike 
you  for  anything  else/' 

There  was  just  a  perceptible  pause  before  he  said 
a  low  "good-by,"  and  passed  out  of  the  room. 
Almost  immediately  after,  she  heard  the  heavy 
hall-door  bang  behind  him. 

Mrs.  Davilow,  too,  had  heard  Eex's  hasty  depar- 
ture, and  presently  came  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  she  found  Gwendolen  seated  on  the  low 
couch,  her  face  buried,  and  her  hair  falling  over  her 
figure  like  a  garment.  She  was  sobbing  bitterly. 
•*  My  child,  my  child,  what  is  it  ? "  cried  the  mother, 
who  had  never  before  seen  her  darling  struck  down 
in  this  way,  and  felt  something  of  the  alarmed 
anguish  that  women  feel  at  the  sight  of  overpower- 
ing sorrow  in  a  strong  man ;  for  this  child  had  been 
her  ruler.  Sitting  down  by  her  with  circling  arms, 
she  pressed  her  cheek  against  Gwendolen's  head, 
and  then  tried  to  draw  it  upward.  Gwendolen  gave 
way,  and  letting  her  head  rest  against  her  mother, 
cried  out  sobbingly,  "  Oh,  mamma,  what  can  become 
of  my  life  ?  there  is  nothing  worth  living  for  I " 

"  Why,  dear  ? "  said  Mrs  Davilow.  Usually  she 
herself  had  been  rebuked  by  her  daughter  for 
involuntary  signs  of  despair. 

"I  shall  never  love  anybody.  I  can't  love  people. 
I  hate  them." 

"  The  time  will  come,  dear,  the  time  will  come," 

Gwendolen  was  more  and  more  convulsed  with 


io8  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

sobbing ;  but,  putting  her  arms  round  her  mother's 
neck  with  an  almost  painful  clinging,  she  said 
brokenly,  "  I  can't  bear  any  one  to  be  very  near  me 
but  you," 

Then  the  mother  began  to  sob,  for  this  spoiled 
child  had  never  shown  such  dependence  on  her 
before;  and  so  they  clung  to  each  other. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  What  name  doth  Joy  most  borrow 
When  life  is  fair? 

'  To-morrow.' 

"  What  name  doth  best  fit  Sorrow 
In  jomig  despair? 

'To-morrow.'  " 

There  was  a  much  more  lasting  trouble  at  the  Eec- 
tory.  Rex  arrived  there  only  to  throw  himself  on 
his  bed  in  a  state  of  apparent  apathy,  unbroken 
till  the  next  day,  when  it  began  to  be  interrupted 
by  more  positive  signs  of  illness.  Nothing  could 
be  said  about  his  going  to  Southampton :  instead 
of  that  the  chief  thought  of  his  mother  and  Anna 
was  how  to  tend  this  patient  who  did  not  want  to 
be  well,  and  from  being  the  brightest,  most  grateful 
spirit  in  the  household,  was  metamorphosed  into 
an  irresponsive,  dull-eyed  creature  who  met  all 
affectionate  attempts  with  a  murmur  of  "Let  me 
alone."  His  father  looked  beyond  the  crisis,  and 
believed  it  to  be  the  shortest  way  out  of  an  unlucky 
affair ;  but  he  was  sorry  for  the  inevitable  suffering, 
and  went  now  and  then  to  sit  by  him  in  silence  for 
a  few  minutes,  parting  with  a  gentle  pressure  of  his 
hand  on  Rex's  blank  brow,  and  a  "  God  bless  you, 
my  boy."  Warham  and  the  younger  children  used 
to  peep  round  the  edge  of  the  door  to  see  this 
incredible  thing  of  their  lively  brother  being  laid 
low ;  but  fingers  were  immediately  shaken  at  them 
to  drive  them  back.  The  guardian  who  was  always 
there  was  Anna,  and  her  little  hand  was  allowed  to 


no  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

rest  within  her  brother's,  though  he  never  gave  it  a 
welcoming  pressure.  Her  soul  was  divided  between 
anguish  for  Eex  and  reproach  of  Gwendolen. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  wicked  of  me,  but  I  think  I  never 
can  love  her  again,"  came  as  the  recurrent  burthen 
of  poor  little  Anna's  inward  monody.  And  even 
Mrs.  Gascoigne  had  an  angry  feeling  towards  her 
niece  which  she  could  not  refrain  from  expressing 
(apologetically)  to  her  husband. 

"  I  know  of  course  it  is  better,  and  we  ought  to 
be  thankful  that  she  is  not  in  love  with  the  poor 
boy  ;  but,  really,  Henry,  I  think  she  is  hard :  she 
has  the  heart  of  a  coquette.  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing that  she  must  have  made  him  believe  something, 
or  the  disappointment  would  not  have  taken  hold 
of  him  in  that  way.  And  some  blame  attaches  to 
poor  Fanny ;  she  is  quite  blind  about  that  girl. " 

Mr.  Gascoigne  answered  imperatively  :  "  The  less 
said  on  that  point  the  better,  Nancy.  I  ought  to 
have  been  more  awake  myself.  As  to  the  boy,  be 
thankful  if  nothing  worse  ever  happens  to  him. 
Let  the  thing  die  out  as  quickly  as  possible ;  and 
especially  with  regard  to  Gwendolen,  —  let  it  be  as 
if  it  had  never  been." 

The  Rector's  dominant  feeling  was  that  there  had 
been  a  great  escape.  Gwendolen  in  love  with  Rex 
in  return  would  have  made  a  much  harder  problem, 
the  solution  of  which  might  have  been  taken  out  of 
his  hands.  But  he  had  to  go  through  some  further 
difficulty. 

One  fine  morning  Rex  asked  for  his  bath,  and 
made  his  toilet  as  usual.  Anna,  full  of  excitement 
at  this  change,  could  do  nothing  but  listen  for  his 
coming  down,  and  at  last  hearing  his  step,  ran  to 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  to  meet  him.     For  the  first 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  m 

time  he  gave  her  a  faint  smile,  but  it  looked  so 
melancholy  on  his  pale  face  that  she  could  hardly 
help  crying. 

"  Nannie !  "  he  said  gently,  taking  her  hand  and 
leading  her  slowly  along  with  him  to  the  drawing- 
room.  His  mother  was  there  ;  and  when  she  came 
to  kiss  him,  he  said,  "  What  a  plague  I  am ! " 

Then  he  sat  still  and  looked  out  of  the  bow- 
window  on  the  lawn  and  shrubs  covered  with  hoar- 
frost, across  which  the  sun  was  sending  faint 
occasional  gleams,  — something  like  that  sad  smile 
on  Eex's  face,  Anna  thought.  He  felt  as  if  he  had 
had  a  resurrection  into  a  new  world,  and  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  himself  there,  the  old 
interests  being  left  behind.  Anna  sat  near  him, 
pretending  to  work,  but  really  watching  him  with 
yearning  looks.  Beyond  the  garden  hedge  there 
was  a  road  where  wagons  and  carts  sometimes  went 
on  field-work :  a  railed  opening  was  made  in  the 
hedge,  because  the  upland  with  its  bordering  wood 
and  clump  of  ash-trees  against  the  sky  was  a  pretty 
sight.  Presently  there  came  along  a  wagon  laden 
with  timber ;  the  horses  were  straining  their  grand 
muscles,  and  the  driver,  having  cracked  his  whip, 
ran  along  anxiously  to  guide  the  leader's  head, 
fearing  a  swerve.  Eex  seemed  to  be  shaken  into 
attention,  rose  and  looked  till  the  last  quivering 
trunk  of  the  timber  had  disappeared,  and  then 
walked  once  or  twice  along  the  room.  Mrs.  Gasr 
coigne  was  no  longer  there,  and  when  he  came  to 
sit  down  again,  Anna,  seeing  a  return  of  speech  in 
her  brothers  eyes,  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to 
bring  a  little  stool  and  seat  herself  against  his 
knee,  looking  up  at  him  with  an  expression  which 
seemed  to  say,  "  Do  speak  to  me."     And  he  spoke. 


112  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  'm  thinking  of,  Nannie.  I 
will  go  to  Canada,  or  somewhere  of  that  sort." 
(Rex  had  not  studied  the  character  of  our  colonial 
possessions.) 

"  Oh,  Rex,  not  for  always ! " 

"  Yes,  to  get  my  bread  there.  I  should  like  to 
build  a  hut,  and  work  hard  at  clearing,  and  have 
everything  wild  about  me,  and  a  great  wide  quiet." 

"And  not  take  me  with  you?"  said  Anna,  the 
big  tears  coming  fast. 

«  How  could  I  ? " 

"  I  should  like  it  better  than  anything ;  and 
settlers  go  with  their  families.  I  would  sooner  go 
there  than  stay  here  in  England.  I  could  make  the 
fires,  and  mend  the  clothes,  and  cook  the  food  ;  and 
I  could  learn  how  to  make  the  bread  before  we 
went.  It  would  be  nicer  than  anything  —  like 
playing  at  life  over  again,  as  we  used  to  do  when  we 
made  our  tent  with  the  drugget,  and  had  our  little 
plates  and  dishes." 

"  Father  and  mother  would  not  let  you  go." 

"  Yes,  I  think  they  would,  when  I  explained  every- 
thing. It  would  save  money  ;  and  papa  would  have 
more  to  bring  up  the  boys  with." 

There  was  further  talk  of  the  same  practical  kind 
at  intervals,  and  it  ended  in  Rex's  being  obliged  to 
consent  that  Anna  should  go  with  him  when  he  spoke 
to  his  father  on  the  subject. 

Of  course  it  was  when  the  Rector  was  alone  in  his 
study.  Their  mother  would  become  reconciled  to 
whatever  he  decided  on  ;  but  mentioned  to  her  first, 
the  question  would  have  distressed  her. 

"  Well,  my  children ! "  said  Mr.  Gascoigne,  cheer- 
fully, as  they  entered.  It  was  a  comfort  to  see  Rex 
about  again. 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  113 

"  May  we  sit  down  with  you  a  little,  papa  ? "  said 
Anna,     "  Eex  has  something  to  say." 

"  With  all  my  heart." 

It  was  a  noticeable  group  that  these  three  crea- 
tures made,  each  of  them  with  a  face  of  the  same 
structural  type, —  the  straight  brow,  the  nose  sud- 
denly straightened  from  an  intention  of  being 
aquiline,  the  short  upper,  lip,  the  short  but  strong 
and  well-hung  chin :  there  was  even  the  same  tone 
of  complexion  and  set  of  the  eye.  The  gray-haired 
father  was  at  once  massive  and  keen-looking ;  there 
was  a  perpendicular  line  in  his  brow  which  when 
he  spoke  with  any  force  of  interest  deepened;  and 
the  habit  of  ruling  gave  him  an  air  of  reserved 
authoritativeness.  Rex  would  have  seemed  a  vision 
of  the  father's  youth,  if  it  had  been  possible  to 
imagine  Mr.  Gascoigne  without  distinct  plans  and 
without  command,  smitten  with  a  heart  sorrow,  and 
having  no  more  notion  of  concealment  than  a  sick 
animal;  and  Anna  was  a  tiny  copy  of  Rex,  with 
hair  drawn  back  and  knotted,  her  face  following  his 
in  its  changes  of  expression,  as  if  they  had  one  soul 
between  them. 

"  You  know  all  about  what  has  upset  me,  father," 
Rex  began  ;  and  Mr.  Gascoigne  nodded. 

"  I  am  quite  done  up  for  life  in  this  part  of  the 
world.  I  am  sure  it  will  be  no  use  my  going  back 
to  Oxford.  I  could  n't  do  any  reading.  I  should 
fail,  and  cause  you  expense  for  nothing.  I  want  to 
have  your  consent  to  take  another  course,  sir." 

Mr.  Gascoigne  nodded  more  slowly,  the  perpen- 
dicular line  on  his  brow  deepened,  and  Anna's 
trembling  increasedo 

"  If  you  would  allow  me  a  small  outfit,  I  should 
like  to  go  to  the  colonies  and  work  on,  the   land 

VOL.  I.  —  8 


114  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

there."  Eex  thought  the  vagueness  of  the  phrase 
prudential ;  "  the  colonies "  necessarily  embracing 
more  advantages,  and  being  less  capable  of  being 
rebutted  on  a  single  ground  than  any  particular 
settlement 

"  Oh,  and  with  me,  papa,"  said  Anna,  not  bearing 
to  be  left  out  from  the  proposal  even  temporarily. 
"  Kex  would  want  some  one  to  take  care  of  him,  you 
know, —  some  one  to  keep  house.  And  we  shall 
never,  either  of  us,  be  married.  And  I  should  cost 
nothing,  and  I  should  be  so  happy.  I  know  it 
would  be  hard  to  leave  you  and  mamma  ;  but  there 
are  all  the  others  to  bring  up,  and  we  two  should  be 
no  trouble  to  you  any  more." 

Anna  had  risen  from  her  seat,  and  used  the  femi- 
nine argument  of  going  closer  to  her  papa  as  she 
spoke.  He  did  not  smile,  but  he  drew  her  on  his 
knee  and  held  her  there,  as  if  to  put  her  gently  out 
of  the  question  while  he  spoke  to  Rex. 

"You  will  admit  that  my  experience  gives  me 
some  power  of  judging  for  you,  and  that  I  can  prob- 
ably guide  you  in  practical  matters  better  than  you 
can  guide  yourself  ? " 

Rex  was  obliged  to  say,  "  Yes,  sir." 

"And  perhaps  you  will  admit  —  though  I  don't 
wish  to  press  that  point  —  that  you  are  bound  in 
duty  to  consider  my  judgment  and  wishes?" 

"  I  have  never  yet  placed  myself  in  opposition  to 
you,  sir."  Rex  in  his  secret  soul  could  not  feel  that 
he  was  bound  not  to  go  to  the  colonies,  but  to  go  to 
Oxford  again, —  which  was  the  point  in  question. 

"  But  you  will  do  so  if  you  persist  in  setting  your 
mind  towards  a  rash  and  foolish  procedure,  and 
deafening  yourself  to  considerations  which  my  expe- 
rience of  life  assures  me  of.     You  think,  I  suppose, 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  115 

that  you  have  had  a  shock  which  has  changed  all 
your  inclinations,  stupefied  your  brains,  unfitted  you 
for  anything  but  manual  labour,  and  given  you  a 
dislike  to  society  ?      Is  that  what  you  believe  ? " 

"  Something  like  that.  I  shall  never  be  up  to  the 
sort  of  work  I  must  do  to  live  in  this  part  of  the 
world.  I  have  not  the  spirit  for  it.  I  shall  never 
be  the  same  again.  And  without  any  disrespect  to 
you,  father,  I  think  a  young  fellow  should  be  allowed 
to  choose  his  way  of  life,  if  he  does  nobody  any  harm. 
There  are  plenty  to  stay  at  home,  and  those  who 
like  might  be  allowed  to  go  where  there  are  empty 
places." 

"  But  suppose  I  am  convinced  on  good  evidence  — 
as  I  am  —  that  this  state  of  mind  of  yours  is  tran- 
sient, and  that  if  you  went  off  as  you  propose,  you 
would  by  and  by  repent,  and  feel  that  you  had  let 
yourself  slip  back  from  the  point  you  have  been 
gaining  by  your  education  till  now  ?  Have  you  not 
strength  of  mind  enough  to  see  that  you  had  better 
act  on  my  assurance  for  a  time,  and  test  it  ?  In  my 
opinion,  so  far  from  agreeing  with  you  that  you 
should  be  free  to  turn  yoilrself  into  a  colonist  and 
work  in  your  shirt-sleeves  with  spade  and  hatchet 
—  in  my  opinion  you  have  no  right  whatever  to 
expatriate  yourself  until  you  have  honestly  endeav- 
oured to  turn  to  account  the  education  you  have 
received  here.  I  say  nothing  of  the  grief  to  your 
mother  and  me." 

"I'm  very  sorry;  but  what  can  I  do?  I  can't 
study, —  that 's  certain,"  said  Kex. 

"  Not  just  now,  perhaps.  You  will  have  to  miss 
a  term.  I  have  made  arrangements  for  you, —  how 
you  are  to  spend  the  next  two  months.  But  I  con- 
fess I  am  disappointed  in  you,  Rex.     I  thought  you 


Ii6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

had  more  sense  than  to  take  up  such  ideas, —  to 
suppose  that  because  you  have  fallen  into  a  very 
common  trouble,  such  as  most  men  have  to  go 
through,  you  are  loosened  from  all  bonds  of  duty, — 
just  as  if  your  brain  had  softened  and  you  were  no 
longer  a  responsible  being  " 

What  could  Kex  say  ?  Inwardly  he  was  in  a 
state  of  rebellion,  but  he  had  no  arguments  to  meet 
his  father's ;  and  while  he  was  feeling,  in  spite  of 
anything  that  might  be  said,  that  he  should  like  to 
go  off  to  "  the  colonies  "  to-morrow,  it  lay  in  a  deep 
fold  of  his  consciousness  that  he  ought  to  feel  —  if 
he  had  been  a  better  fellow  he  would  have  felt  — 
more  about  his  old  ties.  This  is  the  sort  of  faith 
we  live  by  in  our  soul-sicknesses. 

Rex  got  up  from  his  seat,  as  if  he  held  the  con- 
ference to  be  at  an  end.  "  You  assent  to  my 
arrangement,  then  ? "  said  Mr.  Gascoigne,  with  that 
distinct  resolution  of  tone  which  seems  to  hold  one 
in  a  vice. 

There  was  a  little  pause  before  Rex  answered, 
"  1 11  try  what  I  can  do,  sir.  I  can't  promise."  His 
thought  was  that  trying  would  be  of  no  use. 

Her  father  kept  Anna,  holding  her  fast,  though 
she  wanted  to  follow  Rex.  "  Oh,  papa,"  she  said, 
the  tears  coming  with  her  words  when  the  door  had 
closed;  "it  is  very  hard  for  him.  Does  n't  he 
look  ill?" 

"  Yes,  but  he  will  soon  be  better ;  it  will  all  blow 
over.  And  now,  Anna,  be  as  quiet  as  a  mouse  about 
it  all.     Never  let  it  be  mentioned  when  he  is  gone." 

"  No,  papa.  But  I  would  not  be  like  Gwendolen 
for  anything, —  to  have  people  fall  in  love  with  me 
80.     It  is  very  dreadful." 

Anna  dared  not  say  that  she  was  disappointed  at 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  n; 

not  being  allowed  to  go  to  tlie  colonies  with  Eex ; 
but  that  was  her  secret  feeling,  and  she  often  after- 
wards went  inwardly  over  the  whole  affair,  saying 
to  herself,  "  I  should  have  done  with  going  out,  and 
gloves,  and  crinoline,  and  having  to  talk  when  I  am 
taken  to  dinner  —  and  all  that ! " 

I  like  to  mark  the  time,  and  connect  the  course  of 
individual  lives  with  the  historic  stream,  for  all 
classes  of  thinkers.  Tliis  was  the  period  when  the 
broadening  of  gauge  in  crinolines  seemed  to  demand 
an  agitation  for  the  general  enlargement  of  churches, 
ball-rooms,  and  vehicles.  But  Anna  Gascoigne's 
figure  would  only  allow  the  size  of  skirt  manufactured 
for  young  ladies  of  fourteen. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

^l't\  tell  thee,  Berthold,  what  men's  hopes  are  like* 
A  silly  child  that,  quiveriug  with  joy, 
Would  cast  its  little  mimic  fishing-line 
Baited  with  loadstone  for  a  bowl  of  toys 
jn  the  salt  ocean." 

Eight  months  after  the  arrival  of  the  family  at 
Oftendene,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  end  of  the  follow- 
ing June,  a  rumour  was  spread  in  the  neighbourhood 
which  to  many  persons  was  matter  of  exciting 
interest.  It  had  no  reference  to  the  results  of 
the  American  war,  but  it  was  one  which  touched 
all  classes  within  a  certain  circuit  round  Wanches- 
ter  :  the  corn-factors,  the  brewers,  the  horse-dealers, 
and  saddlers,  all  held  it  a  laudable  thing,  and  one 
which  was  to  be  rejoiced  in  on  abstract  grounds, 
as  showing  the  value  of  an  aristocracy  in  a  free 
country  like  England ;  the  blacksmith  in  the  hamlet 
of  Diplow  felt  that  a  good  time  had  come  round ;  the 
wives  of  labouring  men  hoped  their  nimble  boys  of 
ten  or  twelve  would  be  taken  into  employ  by  the 
gentlemen  in  livery  ;  and  the  farmers  about  Diplow 
admitted,  with  a  tincture  of  bitterness  and  reserve, 
that  a  man  might  now  again  perhaps  have  an  easier 
market  or  exchange  for  a  rick  of  old  hay  or  a  wagon- 
load  of  straw.  If  such  were  the  hopes  of  low  persons 
not  in  society,  it  may  be  easily  inferred  that  their 
betters  had  better  reasons  for  satisfaction,  probably 
connected  with  the  pleasures  of  life  rather  than  its 
business.  Marriage,  however,  must  be  considered  as 
coming  under  both  heads ;  and  just  as  when  a  visit 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  119 

of  majesty  is  announced,  the  dream  of  knighthood 
or  a  baronetcy  is  to  be  found  under  various  muni- 
cipal nightcaps,  so  the  news  in  question  raised  a 
floating  indeterminate  vision  of  marriage  in  several 
well-bred  imaginations. 

The  news  was  that  Diplow  Hall,  Sir  Hugo  Mal- 
linger's  place,  which  had  for  a  couple  of  years 
turned  its  white  window- shutters  in  a  painfully 
wall-eyed  manner  on  its  fine  elms  and  beeches, 
its  lilied  pool  and  grassy  acres  specked  with  deer, 
was  being  prepared  for  a  tenant,  and  was  for  the 
rest  of  the  summer  and  through  the  hunting  season 
to  be  inhabited  in  a  fitting  style  both  as  to  house 
and  stable.  But  not  by  Sir  Hugo  himself:  by  his 
nephew  Mr.  Mallinger  Grandcourt,  who  was  presump- 
tive heir  to  the  baronetcy,  his  uncle's  marriage  having 
produced  nothing  but  girls.  Nor  was  this  the  only 
contingency  with  which  fortune  flattered  young 
Grandcourt,  as  he  was  pleasantly  called ;  for  while  the 
chance  of  the  baronetcy  came  through  his  father, 
his  mother  had  given  a  baronial  streak  to  his  blood, 
so  that  if  certain  intervening  persons  slightly  painted 
in  the  middle  distance  died,  he  would  become  a 
baron  and  peer  of  this  realm. 

It  is  the  uneven  allotment  of  nature  that  the 
male  bird  alone  has  the  tuft,  but  we  have  not  yet 
followed  the  advice  of  hasty  philosophers  who  would 
have  us  copy  nature  entirely  in  these  matters ;  and 
if  Mr.  Mallinger  Grandcourt  became  a  baronet  or  a 
peer,  his  wife  would  share  the  title,  —  which  in 
addition  to  his  actual  fortune  was  certainly  a 
reason  why  that  wife,  being  at  present  unchosen, 
should  be  thought  of  by  more  than  one  person 
with  sympathetic  interest  as  a  woman  sure  to  be 
well  provided  for. 


120  DANIEL  DERONDiL 

Some  readers  of  tliis  history  will  doubtless  regard 
it  as  incredible  that  people  should  construct  mat- 
rimonial prospects  on  the  mere  report  that  a  bachelor 
of  good  fortune  and  possibilities  was  coming  within 
reach,  and  will  reject  the  statement  as  a  mere 
outflow  of  gall :  they  will  aver  that  neither  they  nor 
their  first  cousins  have  minds  so  unbridled ;  and 
that  in  fact  this  is  not  human  nature,  which  would 
know  that  such  speculations  might  turn  out  to  be 
fallacious,  and  would  therefore  not  entertain  them. 
But,  let  it  be  observed,  nothing  is  here  narrated  of 
human  nature  generally :  the  history  in  its  present 
stage  concerns  only  a  few  people  in  a  corner  of 
Wessex, —  whose  reputation,  however,  was  unim- 
peached,  and  who,  I  am  in  the  proud  position  of 
being  able  to  state,  were  all  on  visiting  terms  with 
persons  of  rank. 

There  were  the  Arrowpoints,  for  example,  in  their 
beautiful  place  at  Quetcham :  no  one  could  attribute 
sordid  views  in  relation  to  their  daughter's  marriage 
to  parents  who  could  leave  her  at  least  half  a  mil- 
lion; but  having  affectionate  anxieties  about  their 
Catherine's  position  (she  having  resolutely  refused 
Lord  Slogan,  an  unexceptionable  Irish  peer,  whose 
estate  wanted  nothing  but  drainage  and  popula- 
tion), they  wondered,  perhaps  from  something  more 
than  a  charitable  impulse,  whether  Mr.  Grandcourt 
was  good-looking,  of  sound  constitution,  virtuous 
or  at  least  reformed,  and  if  liberal-conservative, 
not  too  liberal-conservative ;  and  without  wishing 
anybody  to  die,  thought  his  succession  to  the  title 
an  event  to  be  desired. 

If  the  Arrowpoints  had  such  ruminations,  it  is 
the  less  surprising  that  they  were  stimulated  in 
Mr.   Gascoigue,  who   for   being   a   clergyman  was 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  lij 

not  the  less  subject  to  the  anxieties  of  a  parent 
and  guardian ;  and  we  have  seen  how  both  he 
and  Mrs.  Gascoigne  might  by  this  time  have  come 
to  feel  that  he  was  overcharged  with  the  manage- 
ment of  young  creatures  who  were  hardly  to  be 
held  in  with  bit  or  bridle,  or  any  sort  of  metaphor 
that  would  stand  for  judicious  advice. 

Naturally,  people  did  not  tell  each  other  all  they 
felt  and  thought  about  young  Grandcourt's  advent : 
on  no  subject  is  this  openness  found  prudentially 
practicable,  —  not  even  on  the  generation  of  acids 
or  the  destination  of  the  fixed  stars  ;  for  either  your 
contemporary  with  a  mind  turned  towards  the 
same  subjects  may  find  your  ideas  ingenious  and 
forestall  you  in  applying  them,  or  he  may  have 
other  views  on  acids  and  fixed  stars,  and  think  ill 
of  you  in  consequence.  Mr.  Gascoigne  did  not 
ask  Mr.  Arrowpoint  if  he  had  any  trustworthy 
source  of  information  about  Grandcourt  considered 
as  a  husband  for  a  charming  girl;  nor  did  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint  observe  to  Mrs.  Davilow  that  if  the 
possible  peer  sought  a  wife  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Diplow,  the  only  reasonable  expectation  was  that 
he  would  offer  his  hand  to  Catherine,  who,  however, 
would  not  accept  him  Unless  he  were  in  all  respects 
fitted  to  secure  her  happiness.  Indeed,  even  to  his 
wife  the  Rector  was  silent  as  to  the  contemplation 
of  any  matrimonial  result,  from  the  probability  that 
Mr.  Grandcourt  would  see  Gwendolen  at  the  next 
Archery  Meeting ;  though  Mrs.  Gascoigne's  mind 
was  very  likely  still  more  active  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. She  had  said  interjectionally  to  her  sister, 
"It  would  be  a  mercy,  Fanny,  if  that  girl  were 
well  married ! "  to  which  Mrs.  Davilow,  discerning 
some  criticism  of  her  darling  in  the  fervour  of  that 


122  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

wish,  had  not  chosen  to  make  any  audible  reply, 
though  she  had  said  inwardly,  "You  will  not  get 
her  to  marry  for  your  pleasure;"  the  mild  mother 
becoming  rather  saucy  when  she  identified  her- 
self  with   her   daughter. 

To  her  husband  Mrs.  Gascoigne  said :  "  I  hear 
!Mr.  Grandcourt  has  two  places  of  his  own,  but  he 
comes  to  Diplow  for  the  hunting.  It  is  to  be 
hoped  he  will  set  a  good  example  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. Have  you  heard  what  sort  of  young  man 
he  is,  Henry?" 

Mr.  Gascoigne  had  not  heard ;  at  least,  if  his  male 
acquaintances  had  gossiped  in  his  hearing,  he  was 
not  disposed  to  repeat  their  gossip,  or  give  it  any 
emphasis  in  his  own  mind.  He  held  it  futile,  even 
if  it  had  been  becoming,  to  show  any  curiosity  as 
to  the  past  of  a  young  man  whose  birth,  wealth, 
and  consequent  leisure  made  many  habits  venial 
which  under  other  circumstances  would  have  been 
inexcusable.  Whatever  Grandcourt  had  done,  he 
had  not  ruined  himself ;  and  it  is  well  known  that 
in  gambling,  for  example,  whether  of  the  business 
or  holiday  sort,  a  man  who  has  the  strength  of  naind 
to  leave  off  when  he  has  only  ruined  others,  is  a 
reformed  character.  This  is  an  illustration  merely  : 
Mr.  Gascoigne  had  not  heard  that  Grandcourt  had 
been  a  gambler ;  and  we  can  hardly  pronounce  him 
singular  in  feeling  that  a  landed  proprietor  with  a 
mixture  of  noble  blood  in  his  veins  was  not  to  be 
an  object  of  suspicious  inquiry  like  a  reformed  char- 
acter who  offers  himself  as  your  butler  or  footman. 
Reformation  where  a  man  can  afford  to  do  without 
it,  can  hardly  be  other  than  genuine.  Moreover, 
it  was  not  certain  on  any  showing  hitherto  that 
Mr.  Grandcourt  had  needed  reformation  more  than 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  123 

other  young  men  in  the  ripe  youth  of  five-and- 
thirty;  and,  at  any  rate,  the  significance  of  what 
he  had  been  must  be  determined  by  what  he  actu- 
ally was. 

Mrs.  Davilow,  too,  although  she  would  not  respond 
to  her  sister's  pregnant  remark,  could  not  be  inwardly 
indifferent  to  an  event  that  might  promise  a  brilliant 
lot  for  Gwendolen.  A  little  speculation  on  "what 
may  be  "  comes  naturally,  without  encouragement, 
—  comes  inevitably  in  the  form  of  images,  when 
unknown  persons  are  mentioned;  and  Mr.  Grand- 
court's  name  raised  in  Mrs.  Davilow's  mind  first  of 
all  the  picture  of  a  handsome,  accomplished,  excel- 
lent young  man  whom  she  would  be  satisfied  with 
as  a  husband  for  her  daughter;  but  then  came  the 
further  speculation,  —  would  Gwendolen  be  satisfied 
with  him?  There  was  no  knowing  what  would 
meet  that  girl's  taste  or  touch  her  affections,  —  it 
might  be  something  else  than  excellence ;  and  thus 
the  image  of  the  perfect  suitor  gave  way  before 
a  fluctuating  combination  of  qualities  that  might 
be  imagined  to  win  Gwendolen's  heart.  In  the 
difficulty  of  arriving  at  the  particular  combination 
which  would  insure  that  result,  the  mother  even 
said  to  herself,  "  It  would  not  signify  about  her 
being  in  love,  if  she  would  only  accept  the  right 
person."  For  whatever  marriage  had  been  for 
herself,  how  could  she  the  less  desire  it  for  her 
daughter  ?  The  difference  her  own  misfortunes 
made  was,  that  she  never  dared  to  dwell  much  to 
Gwendolen  on  the  desirableness  of  marriage,  dread- 
ing an  answer  something  like  that  of  the  future 
Madame  Eoland,  when  her  gentle  mother  urging 
the  acceptance  of  a  suitor,  said,  "  Tu  seras  heureuse» 
ma  chfere."     "  Qui,  maman,  comme  toi." 


144  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

In  relation  to  the  problematic  Mr.  Grandcourt 
least  of  all  would  Mrs.  Davilow  have  willingly  let 
fall  a  hint  of  the  aerial  castle-building  which  she 
had  the  good  taste  to  be  ashamed  of;  for  such  a 
hint  was  likely  enough  to  give  an  adverse  poise  to 
Gwendolen's  own  thought,  and  make  her  detest  the 
desirable  husband  beforehand.  Since  that  scene 
after  poor  Eex's  farewell  visit,  the  mother  had  felt 
a  new  sense  of  peril  in  touching  the  mystery  of  her 
child's  feeling,  and  in  rashly  determining  what  was 
her  welfare  ;  only  she  could  think  of  welfare  in  no 
other  shape  than  marriage. 

The  discussion  of  the  dress  that  Gwendolen  was 
to  wear  at  the  Archery  Meeting  was  a  relevant 
topic,  however ;  and  when  it  had  been  decided  that 
as  a  touch  of  colour  on  her  white  cashmere,  nothing, 
for  her  complexion,  was  comparable  to  pale  green,  — 
a  feather  which  she  was  trying  in  her  hat  before 
the  looking-glass  having  settled  the  question, — 
Mrs.  Davilow  felt  her  ears  tingle  when  Gwendolen, 
suddenly  throwing  herself  into  the  attitude  of  draw- 
ing her  bow,  said  with  a  look  of  comic  enjoyment,  — 

"  How  I  pity  all  the  other  girls  at  the  Archery 
Meeting,  —  all  thinking  of  Mr.  Grandcourt !  And 
they  have  not  a  shadow  of  a  chance." 

Mrs.  Davilow  had  not  presence  of  mind  to  answer 
immediately,  and  Gwendolen  turned  quickly  round 
towards  her,  saying  wickedly,  — 

"  Now  you  know  they  have  not,  mamma.  You 
and  my  uncle  and  aunt,  —  you  all  intend  him  to 
fall  in  love  with  me." 

Mrs.  Davilow,  piqued  into  a  little  stratagem,  said, 
"  Oh,  my  dear,  that  is  not  so  certain.  Miss  Arrow- 
point  has  charms  which  you  have  not." 

"  I  know ;  but  they  demand  thought.     My  arrow 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  125' 

will  pierce  him  before  he  has  time  for  thought. 
He  will  declare  himself  my  slave  —  I  shall  send 
him  round  the  world  to  bring  me  back  the  wedding- 
ring  of  a  happy  woman  —  in  the  mean  time  all  the 
men  who  are  between  him  and  the  title  will  die  of 
different  diseases  —  he  will  come  back  Lord  Grand- 
court  —  but  without  the  ring  —  and  fall  at  my  feet. 
I  shall  laugh  at  him — he  will  rise  in  resentment  — 
I  shall  laugh  more  —  he  will  call  for  his  steed  and 
ride  to  Quetcham,  where  he  will  find  Miss  Arrow- 
point  just  married  to  a  needy  musician,  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint  tearing  her  cap  off,  and  Mr.  Arrowpoint 
standing  by.  Exit  Lord  Grandcourt,  who  returns 
to  Diplow,  and,  like  M.  Jabot,  change  de  linge." 

Was  ever  any  young  witch  like  this  ?  You 
thought  of  hiding  things  from  her,  —  sat  upon  your 
secret  and  looked  innocent,  and  all  the  while  she 
knew  by  the  corner  of  your  eye  that  it  was  exactly 
five  pounds  ten  you  were  sitting  on  !  As  well  turn 
the  key  to  keep  out  the  damp !  It  was  probable 
that  by  dint  of  divination  she  already  knew  more 
than  any  one  else  did  of  Mr.  Grandcourt.  That 
idea  in  Mrs.  Davilow's  mind  prompted  the  sort  of 
question  which  often  comes  without  any  other 
apparent  reason  than  the  faculty  of  speech  and  the 
not  knowing  what  to  do  with  it. 

"  Why,  what  kind  of  man  do  you  imagine  him 
to  be,  Gwendolen  ? " 

"  Let  me  see  1 "  said  the  witch,  putting  her  fore- 
finger to  her  lips  with  a  little  frown,  and  then 
stretching  out  the  finger  with  decision.  "  Short  — 
just  above  my  shoulder  —  trying  to  make  himself 
tall  by  turning  up  his  mustache  and  keeping  his 
beard  long  —  a  glass  in  his  right  eye  to  give  him 
an  air  of  distinction  —  a  strong  opinion  about  his 


126  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

waistcoat,  but  uncertain  and  trimming  about  the 
weather,  on  which  he  will  try  to  draw  me  out  He 
will  stare  at  me  all  the  while,  and  the  glass  in  his 
eye  will  cause  him  to  make  horrible  faces,  espe- 
cially when  he  smiles  in  a  flattering  way.  I  shall 
cast  down  my  eyes  in  consequence,  and  he  will  per- 
ceive that  I  am  not  indifferent  to  his  attentions.  I 
shall  dream  that  night  that  I  am  looking  at  the 
extraordinary  face  of  a  magnified  insect,  —  and  the 
next  morning  he  will  make  me  an  offer  of  his  hand ; 
the  sequel  as  before." 

"That  is  a  portrait  of  some  one  you  have  seen 
already,  Gwen.  Mr  Grandcourt  may  be  a  delight- 
ful young  man  for  what  you  know." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Gwendolen,  with  a  high  note  of 
careless  admission,  taking  ofif  her  best  hat  and  turn- 
ing it  round  on  her  hand  contemplatively.  "  I 
wonder  what  sort  of  behaviour  a  delightful  young 
man  would  have  ? "  Then,  with  a  merry  change  of 
face,  "  I  know  he  would  have  hunters  and  racers, 
and  a  London  house  and  two  country  houses,  — 
one  with  battlements  and  another  with  a  veranda. 
And  I  feel  sure  that  with  a  little  murdering  he 
might  get  a  title." 

The  irony  of  this  speech  was  of  the  doubtful  sort 
that  has  some  genuine  belief  mixed  up  with  it. 
Poor  Mrs  Davilow  felt  uncomfortable  under  it, 
her  own  meanings  being  usually  literal  and  in 
intention  innocent ;  and  she  said,  with  a  distressed 
brow,  — 

"  Don't  talk  in  that  way,  child,  for  heaven's  sake ! 
You  do  read  such  books,  —  they  give  you  such  ideas 
of  everything.  I  declare,  when  your  aunt  and  I 
were  your  age  we  knew  nothing  about  wickedness 
I  think  it  was  better  so." 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  127 

"  Why  did  you  not  "bring  me  up  in  that  way, 
mamma  ?  "  said  Gwendolen.  But  immediately  per- 
ceiving in  the  crushed  look  and  rising  sob  that  she 
had  given  a  deep  wound,  she  tossed  down  her  hat 
and  knelt  at  her  mother's  feet,  crying,  — 

"  Mamma,  mamma  I  I  was  only  speaking  in  fun, 
I  meant  nothing." 

"  How  could  I,  Gwendolen  ? "  said  poor  Mrs. 
Davilow,  unable  to  hear  the  retractation,  and  sob- 
bing violently  while  she  made  the  effort  to  speak. 
"  Your  will  was  always  too  strong  for  me  —  if 
everything  else  had  been  different." 

This  disjointed  logic  was  intelligible  enough  to 
the  daughter.  "Dear  mamma,  I  don't  find  fault 
with  you.  —  I  love  you,"  said  Gwendolen,  really 
compunctious.  "  How  can  you  help  what  I  am  ? 
Besides,  I  am  very  charming.  Come  now."  Here 
Gwendolen  with  her  handkerchief  gently  rubbed 
away  her  mother's  tears.  "Eeally  —  I  am  contented 
with  myself.  I  like  myself  better  than  I  should 
have  liked  my  aunt  and  you.  How  dreadfully  dull 
you  must  have  been  ! " 

Such  tender  cajolery  served  to  quiet  the  mother, 
as  it  had  often  done  before  after  like  collisions. 
Not  that  the  collisions  had  often  been  repeated  at 
the  same  point;  for  in  the  memory  of  both  they 
left  an  association  of  dread  with  the  particular 
topics  which  had  occasioned  them :  Gwendolen 
dreaded  the  unpleasant  sense  of  compunction  to- 
wards her  mother,  which  was  the  nearest  approach 
to  self-condemnation  and  self-distrust  that  she  had 
known ;  and  Mrs.  Davilow's  timid  maternal  con- 
science dreaded  whatever  had  brought  on  the 
slightest  hint  of  reproach.  Hence,  after  this  little 
scene,  the  two  concurred  in  excluding  Mr.  Gran4- 
wOurt  from  their  conversation. 


128  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

When  Mr.  Gascoigne  once  or  twice  referred  to 
him,  Mrs.  Davilow  feared  lest  Gwendolen  should 
betray  some  of  her  alarming  keen-sightedness  about 
what  was  probably  in  her  uncle's  mind ;  but  the 
fear  was  not  justified.  Gwendolen  knew  certain 
differences  in  the  characters  with  which  she  was 
concerned  as  birds  know  climate  and  weather;  and, 
for  the  very  reason  that  she  was  determined  to 
evade  her  uncle's  control,  she  was  determined  not 
to  clash  with  him.  The  good  understanding  be- 
tween them  was  much  fostered  by  their  enjoyment 
of  archery  together :  Mr.  Gascoigne,  as  one  of  the 
best  bowmen  in  Wessex,  was  gratified  to  find  the 
elements  of  like  skill  in  his  niece ;  and  Gwendolen 
was  the  more  careful  not  to  lose  the  shelter  of  his 
fatherly  indulgence,  because  since  the  trouble  with 
Kex  both  Mrs.  Gascoigne  and  Anna  had  been  unable 
to  hide  what  she  felt  to  be  a  very  unreasonable 
alienation  from  her.  Towards  Anna  she  took  some 
pains  to  behave  with  a  regretful  affectionateness ;  but 
neither  of  them  dared  to  mention  Rex's  name,  and 
Anna,  to  whom  the  thought  of  him  was  part  of  the 
air  she  breathed,  was  ill  at  ease  with  the  lively 
cousin  who  had  ruined  his  happiness.  She  tried 
dutifully  to  repress  any  sign  of  her  changed  feeling ; 
but  who  in  pain  can  imitate  the  glance  and  hand- 
touch  of  pleasure  ? 

This  unfair  resentment  had  rather  a  hardening 
effect  on  Gwendolen,  and  threw  her  into  a  more 
defiant  temper.  Her  uncle  too  might  be  offended 
if  she  refused  the  next  person  who  fell  in  love  with 
her ;  and  one  day  when  that  idea  was  in  her  mind 
she  said, — 

"Mamma,  I  see  now  why  girls  are  glad  to  be 
married,  —  to  escape  being  expected  to  please  every- 
body but  themselves." 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  129 

Happily,  Mr.  Middleton  was  gone  without  having 
made  any  avowal ;  and  notwithstanding  the  admira- 
tion for  the  handsome  Miss  Harleth,  extending  per- 
haps over  thirty  square  miles  in  a  part  of  Wcssex 
well  studded  with  families  whose  members  included 
several  disengaged  young  men,  each  glad  to  seat  him- 
self by  the  lively  girl  with  whom  it  was  so  easy 
to  get  on  in  conversation,  —  notwithstanding  these 
grounds  for  arguing  that  Gwendolen  was  likely  to 
have  other  suitors  more  explicit  than  the  cautious 
curate,  the  fact  was  not  so. 

Care  has  been  taken  not  only  that  the  trees 
should  not  sweep  the  stars  down,  but  also  that 
every  man  who  admires  a  fair  girl  should  not  be 
enamoured  of  her,  and  even  that  every  man  who  is 
enamoured  should  not  necessarily  declare  himself. 
There  are  various  refined  shapes  in  which  the  price 
of  corn,  known  to  be  a  potent  cause  in  this  relation, 
might,  if  inquired  into,  show  why  a  young  lady, 
perfect  in  person,  accomplishments,  and  costume, 
has  not  the  trouble  of  rejecting  many  offers ;  and 
nature's  order  is  certainly  benignant  in  not  obliging 
us  one  and  all  to  be  desperately  in  love  with  the 
most  admirable  mortal  we  have  ever  seen.  Gwen- 
dolen, we  know,  was  far  from  holding  that  supre- 
macy in  the  minds  of  all  observers.  Besides,  it  was 
but  a  poor  eight  months  since  she  had  come  to  Offen- 
dene,  and  some  inclinations  become  manifest  slowly, 
like  the  sunward  creeping  of  plants. 

In  face  of  this  fact  that  not  one  of  the  eligible 
young  men  already  in  the  neighbourhood  had  made 
Gwendolen  an  ofiFer,  why  should  Mr.  Grandcourt 
be  thought  of  as  likely  to  do  what  they  had  left 
undone  ? 

Perhaps  because  he  was  thought  of  as  still  more 

VOL.  1. —  9 


I30  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

eligible  ;  since  a  great  deal  of  what  passes  for  like- 
lihood in  the  world  is  simply  the  reflex  of  a  wish. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  for  example,  having  no 
anxiety  that  Miss  Harleth  should  make  a  brilliant 
marriage,  had  quite  a  different  likelihood  in  their 
minds. 


CHAPTEE  X. 

"  1st  Gent.  What  woman  should  be?     Sir,  consult  the  taste 
Of  marriageable  men.     This  planet's  store 
In  iron,  cotton,  wool,  or  chemicals  — 
All  matter  rendered  to  our  plastic  skill. 
Is  wrought  in  shapes  responsive  to  demand : 
The  market's  pulse  makes  index  high  or  low. 
By  rule  sublime.     Our  daughters  must  be  wives. 
And  to  be  wives  must  be  what  men  will  choose  : 
Men's  taste  is  women's  test.     You  mark  the  phrase  ? 
'  T  is  good,  I  think  1  —  the  sense  well  winged  and  poised 
With  t's  and  s's. 
2d  Gent.  Nay,  but  turn  it  round  : 

Give  us  the  test  of  taste.    A  fine  menu  — 
Is  it  to-day  what  Roman  epicures 
Insisted  that  a  gentleman  must  eat 
To  earn  the  dignity  of  dining  well  t  " 

Brackenshaw  Park,  where  the  Archery  Meet- 
ing was  held,  looked  out  from  its  gentle  heights 
far  over  the  neighbouring  valley  to  the  outlying 
eastern  downs  and  the  broad  slow  rise  of  culti- 
vated country  hanging  like  a  vast  curtain  towards 
the  west.  The  castle,  which  stood  on  the  highest 
platform  of  the  clustered  hills,  was  built  of  rough- 
hewn  limestone,  full  of  lights  and  shadows  made  by 
the  dark  dust  of  lichens  and  the  washings  of  the  rain. 
Masses  of  beech  and  fir  sheltered  it  on  the  north, 
and  spread  down  here  and  there  along  the  green 
slopes  like  flocks  seeking  the  water  which  gleamed 
below.  The  archery-ground  was  a  carefully  kept 
enclosure  on  a  bit  of  table-land  at  the  farthest  end 
of  the  park,  protected  towards  the  southwest  by 
tall  elms  and  a  thick  screen  of  hollies,  which  kept 


132  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

the  gravel  walk  and  the  bit  of  newly  mown  turf 
where  the  targets  were  placed  in  agreeable  after- 
noon shade.  The  Archery  Hall  with  an  arcade  in 
front  showed  like  a  white  temple  against  the  green- 
ery on  the  northern  side. 

Wliat  could  make  a  better  background  for  the 
flower-groups  of  ladies,  moving  and  bowing  and 
turning  their  necks  as  it  would  become  the  leis- 
urely lilies  to  do  if  they  took  to  locomotion  ?  The 
sounds  too  were  very  pleasant  to  hear,  even  when 
the  military  band  from  Wanchester  ceased  to  play  ; 
musical  laughs  in  all  the  registers  and  a  harmony 
of  happy  friendly  speeches,  now  rising  towards  mild 
excitement,  now  sinking  to  an  agreeable  murmur. 

No  open-air  amusement  could  be  much  freer  from 
those  noisy,  crowding  conditions  which  spoil  most 
modern  pleasures;  no  Archery  Meeting  could  be 
more  select,  the  number  of  friends  accompanying 
the  members  being  restricted  by  an  award  of 
tickets,  so  as  to  keep  the  maximum  within  the 
limits  of  convenience  for  the  dinner  and  ball  to  be 
held  in  the  castle.  Within  the  enclosure  no  ple- 
beian spectators  were  admitted  except  Lord  Brack- 
enshaw's  tenants  and  their  families  ;  and  of  these 
it  was  chiefly  the  feminine  members  who  used  the 
privilege,  bringing  their  little  boys  and  girls  or 
younger  brothers  and  sisters.  The  males  among 
them  relieved  the  insipidity  of  the  entertainment 
by  imaginative  betting,  in  which  the  stake  was 
"  anything  you  like,"  on  their  favourite  archers ; 
but  the  young  maidens,  having  a  different  principle 
of  discrimination,  were  considering  which  of  those 
sweetly  dressed  ladies  they  would  choose  to  be,  if 
the  clioice  were  allowed  them.  Probably  the  form 
these  rural  souls  would  most  have  striven  for  as  a 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  133 

tabernacle  was  some  other  than  Gwendolen's,  —  one 
with  more  pink  in  her  cheeks  and  hair  of  the  most 
fashionable  yellow ;  but  among  the  male  judges  in 
the  ranks  immediately  surrounding  her  there  was 
unusual  unanimity  in  pronouncing  her  the  finest 
girl  present. 

No  wonder  she  enjoyed  her  existence  on  that 
July  day.  Pre-eminence  is  sweet  to  those  who 
love  it,  even  under  mediocre  circumstances :  per- 
haps it  is  not  quite  mythical  that  a  slave  has  been 
proud  to  be  bought  first ;  and  probably  a  barn-door 
fowl  on  sale,  though  he  may  not  have  understood 
himself  to  be  called  the  best  of  a  bad  lot,  may  have 
a  self-informed  consciousness  of  his  relative  impor- 
tance, and  strut  consoled.  But  for  complete  enjoy- 
ment the  outward  and  the  inward  must  concur; 
and  that  concurrence  was  happening  to  Gwendolen. 

Who  can  deny  that  bows  and  arrows  are  among 
the  prettiest  weapons  in  the  world  for  feminine 
forms  to  play  with  ?  They  prompt  attitudes  full 
of  grace  and  power,  where  tliat  fine  concentration  of 
energy  seen  in  all  marksmanship  is  freed  from  asso- 
ciations of  bloodshed.  The  time-honoured  British 
resource  of  "killing  something"  is  no  longer  carried 
oh  with  bow  and  quiver;  bands  defending  their  passes 
against  an  invading  nation  fight  under  another  sort 
of  shade  than  a  cloud  of  arrows ;  and  poisoned  darts 
are  harmless  survivals  either  in  rhetoric  or  in  regions 
comfortably  remote.  Archery  has  no  ugly  smell  of 
brimstone,  breaks  nobody's  shins,  breeds  no  athletic 
monsters ;  its  only  danger  is  that  of  failing,  which 
for  generous  blood  is  enough  to  mould  skilful  action. 
And  among  the  Brackenshaw  archers  the  prizes  were 
all  of  the  nobler  symbolic  kind :  not  property  to  be 
carried  off  in  a  parcel,  degrading  honour  into  gain ; 


134  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

but  the  gold  arrow  and  the  silver,  the  gold  star  and 
the  silver,  to  be  worn  for  a  time  in  sign  of  achieve- 
ment and  then  transferred  to  the  next  who  did  ex- 
cellently. These  signs  of  pre-eminence  had  the 
virtue  of  wreaths  without  their  inconveniences, 
which  might  have  produced  a  melancholy  effect  in 
the  heat  of  the  ball-room.  Altogether  the  Bracken- 
shaw  Archery  Club  was  an  institution  framed  with 
good  taste,  so  as  not  to  have  by  necessity  any  ridicu- 
lous incidents. 

And  to-day  all  incalculable  elements  were  in  its 
favour.  There  was  mild  warmth,  and  no  wind  to 
disturb  either  hair  or  drapery  or  the  course  of  the 
arrow ;  all  skilful  preparation  had  fair  play,  and 
when  there  was  a  general  march  to  extract  the  arrows, 
the  promenade  of  joyous  young  creatures  in  light 
speech  and  laughter,  the  graceful  movement  in  com- 
mon towards  a  common  object,  was  a  show  worth 
looking  at.  Here  Gwendolen  seemed  a  Calypso 
among  her  nymphs.  It  was  in  her  attitudes  and 
movements  that  every  one  was  obliged  to  admit 
her  surpassing  charm. 

"  That  girl  is  like  a  high-mettled  racer,"  said 
Lord  Brackenshaw  to  young  Clintock,  one  of  the 
invited  spectators. 

"  First  chop  !  tremendously  pretty  too,"  said  the 
elegant  Grecian,  who  had  been  paying  her  assiduous 
attention ;  "  I  never  saw  her  look  better." 

Perhaps  she  had  never  looked  so  well.  Her  face 
was  beaming  with  young  pleasure  in  which  there 
were  no  malign  rays  of  discontent ;  for  being  satis- 
fied with  her  own  chances,  she  felt  kindly  towards 
everybody,  and  was  satisfied  with  the  universe.  Not 
to  have  the  highest  distinction  in  rank,  not  to  be 
marked  out  as  an  heiress,  like  Miss   Arrowpoint, 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  135 

gave  an  added  triumph  in  eclipsing  those  advantages. 
For  personal  recommendation  she  would  not  have 
cared  to  change  the  family  group  accompanying  her 
for  any  other :  her  mamma's  appearance  would  have 
suited  an  amiable  duchess ;  her  uncle  and  aunt 
Gascoigne  with  Anna  made  equally  gratifying 
figures  in  their  way ;  and  Gwendolen  was  too  full 
of  joyous  belief  in  herself  to  feel  in  the  least  jeal- 
ous, though  Miss  Arrowpoint  was  one  of  the  best 
archeresses. 

Even  the  reappearance  of  the  formidable  Herr 
Klesmer,  which  caused  some  surprise  in  the  rest  of 
the  company,  seemed  only  to  fall  in  with  Gwendo- 
len's inclination  to  be  amused.  Short  of  Apollo 
himself,  what  great  musical  maestro  could  make  a 
good  figure  at  an  archery  meeting  ?  There  was  a 
very  satirical  light  in  Gwendolen's  eyes  as  she 
looked  towards  the  Arrowpoint  party  on  their  first 
entrance,  when  the  contrast  between  Klesmer  and 
the  average  group  of  English  country  people  seemed 
at  its  utmost  intensity  in  the  close  neighbourhood 
of  his  hosts  —  or  patrons,  as  Mrs.  Arrowpoint  would 
have  liked  to  hear  them  called,  that  she  might 
deny  the  possibility  of  any  longer  patronizing 
genius,  its  royalty  being  universally  acknowledged. 
The  contrast  might  have  amused  a  graver  personage 
than  Gwendolen.  We  English  are  a  miscellaneous 
people,  and  any  chance  fifty  of  us  will  present 
many  varieties  of  animal  architecture  or  facial  orna- 
ment ;  but  it  must  be  admitted  that  our  prevailing 
expression  is  not  that  of  a  lively,  impassioned  race, 
preoccupied  with  the  ideal  and  carrying  the  real  as 
a  mere  make-weight.  The  strong  point  of  the 
English  gentleman  pure  is  the  easy  style  of  his 
figure  and  clothing ;  he  objects  to  marked  ins  and 


136  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

outs  in  his  costume,  and  he  also  objects  to  looking 
inspired. 

Fancy  an  assemblage  where  the  men  had  all  that 
ordinary  stamp  of  the  well-bred  Englishman,  watch- 
ing the  entrance  of  Herr  Klesmer,  —  his  mane  of 
hair  floating  backward  in  massive  inconsistency  with 
the  chimney-pot  hat,  which  had  the  look  of  having 
been  put  on  for  a  joke  above  his  pronounced  but 
well-modelled  features  and  powerful  clear-shaven 
mouth  and  chin ;  his  tall  thin  figure  clad  in  a  way 
which,  not  being  strictly  English,  was  all  the  worse 
for  its  apparent  emphasis  of  intention.  Draped  in 
a  loose  garment  with  a  Florentine  berretta  on  his 
head,  he  would  have  been  fit  to  stand  by  the  side  of 
Leonardo  da  Vinci ;  but  how  when  he  presented 
himself  in  trousers  which  were  not  what  English 
feeling  demanded  about  the  knees  ?  —  and  when  the 
fire  that  showed  itself  in  his  glances  and  the  move- 
ments of  his  head,  as  he  looked  round  him  with 
curiosity,  was  turned  into  comedy  by  a  hat  which 
ruled  that  mankind  should  have  well-cropped  hair 
and  a  staid  demeanour,  —  such,  for  example,  as  Mr. 
Arrowpoint's,  whose  nullity  of  face  and  perfect 
tailoring  might  pass  everywhere  without  ridicule  ? 
One  sees  why  it  is  often  better  for  greatness  to  be 
dead,  and  to  have  got  rid  of  the  outward  man. 

Many  present  knew  Klesmer,  or  knew  of  him  ; 
but  they  had  only  seen  him  on  candle-light  occa- 
sions when  he  appeared  simply  as  a  musician,  and 
he  had  not  yet  that  supreme,  world-wide  celebrity 
which  makes  an  artist  great  to  the  most  ordinary 
people  by  their  knowledge  of  his  great  expensive- 
ness.  It  was  literally  a  new  light  for  them  to  see 
him  in,  —  presented  unexpectedly  on  this  July 
afternoon  in  an  exclusive  society  :  some  were  inclined 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  137 

to  laugh,  others  felt  a  little  disgust  at  the  want  of 
judgment  shown  by  the  Arrowpoints  in  this  use  of 
an  introductory  card. 

"What  extreme  guys  those  artistic  fellows 
usually  are  !  "  said  young  Clintock  to  Gwendolen. 
"  Do  look  at  the  figure  he  cuts,  bowing  with  his 
hand  on  his  heart  to  Lady  Brackenshaw  —  and 
Mrs.  Arrowpoint's  feather  just  reaching  his 
shoulder." 

"  You  are  one  of  the  profane,"  said  Gwendolen. 
"  You  are  blind  to  the  majesty  of  genius.  Herr 
Klesmer  smites  me  with  awe  ;  I  feel  crushed  in  his 
presence ;  my  courage  all  oozes  from  me." 

"Ah,  you  understand  all  about  his  music." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Gwendolen,  with  a  light 
laugh ;  "  it  is  he  who  understands  all  about  mine, 
and  thinks  it  pitiable."  Klesmer's  verdict  on  her 
singing  had  been  an  easier  joke  to  her  since  he  had 
been  struck  by  her  plastik. 

"  It  is  not  addressed  to  the  ears  of  the  future,  I 
suppose.     I  'm  glad  of  that :  it  suits  mine." 

"  Oh,  you  are  very  kind.  But  how  remarkably 
well  Miss  Arrowpoint  looks  to-day  !  She  would 
make  quite  a  fine  picture  in  that  gold-coloured 
dress." 

"  Too  splendid,  don't  you  think  ? " 

"Well,  perhaps  a  little  too  symbolical,  —  too 
much  like  the  figure  of  Wealth  in  an  allegory." 

This  speech  of  Gwendolen's  had  rather  a  mali- 
cious sound,  but  it  was  not  really  more  than  a 
bubble  of  fun.  She  did  not  wish  Miss  Arrowpoint 
or  any  one  else  to  be  out  of  the  way,  believing  in 
her  own  good  fortune  even  more  than  in  her  skill. 
The  belief  in  both  naturally  grew  stronger  as  the 
shooting  went  on,  for  she  promised  to  achieve  one 


138  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

of  the  best  scores,  —  a  success  which  astonished 
every  one  in  a  new  member;  and  to  Gwendolen's 
temperament  one  success  determined  another.  She 
trod  on  air,  and  all  things  pleasant  seemed  possible. 
The  hour  was  enough  for  her,  and  she  was  not 
obliged  to  think  what  she  should  do  next  to  keep 
her  life  at  the  due  pitch. 

"How  does  the  scoring  stand,  I  wonder?"  said 
Lady  Brackenshaw,  a  gracious  personage  who, 
^adorned  with  two  fair  little  girls  and  a  boy  of 
stout  make,  sat  as  lady  paramount.  Her  lord  had 
come  up  to  her  in  one  of  the  intervals  of  shooting. 
"  It  seems  to  me  that  Miss  Harleth  is  likely  to  win 
the  gold  arrow." 

"  Gad,  I  think  she  will,  if  she  carries  it  on !  she 
is  running  Juliet  Fenn.  hard.  It  is  wonderful  for 
one  in  her  first  year.  Catherine  is  not  up  to  her 
usual  mark,"  continued  his  lordship,  turning  to  the 
heiress's  mother,  who  sat  near.  "But  she  got  the 
gold  arrow  last  time.  And  there  *s  a  luck  even  in 
these  games  of  skill.  That 's  better.  It  gives  the 
hinder  ones  a  chance." 

"  Catherine  will  be  very  glad  for  others  to  win," 
said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  "  she  is  so  magnanimous.  It 
was  entirely  her  considerateness  that  made  us 
bring  Herr  Klesmer  instead  of  Canon  Stopley,  who 
had  expressed  a  wish  to  come.  For  her  own  plea- 
sure, I  am  sure  she  would  rather  have  brought  the 
Canon ;  but  she  is  always  thinking  of  others.  I 
told  her  it  was  not  quite  e?i  r^glc  to  bring  one  so  far 
out  of  our  own  set ;  but  she  said,  '  Genius  itself  is 
not  en  regie  ;  it  comes  into  the  world  to  make  new 
rules.'     And  one  must  admit  that." 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure,"  said  Lord  Brackenshaw,  in  a 
tone  of  careless  dismissal,  adding  quickly,  "For  my 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  139 

part,  I  am  not  magnanimous  ;  I  should  like  to  win. 
But,  confound  it  I  I  never  have  the  chance  now. 
I  'm  getting  old  and  idle.  The  young  ones  beat 
me.  As  old  Nestor  says  —  the  gods  don't  give  us 
everything  at  one  time  :  I  was  a  young  fellow  once, 
and  now  I  am  getting  an  old  and  wise  one.  Old, 
at  any  rate  ;  which  is  a  gift  that  comes  to  everybody 
if  they  live  long  enough,  so  it  raises  no  jealousy." 
The  Earl  smiled  comfortably  at  his  wife. 

"  Oh,  my  lord,  people  who  have  been  neighbours 
twenty  years  must  not  talk  to  each  other  about 
age,"  said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint.  "  Years,  as  the  Tus- 
cans say,  are  made  for  the  letting  of  houses.  But 
where  is  our  new  neighbour  ?  I  thought  Mr. 
Grandcourt  was  to  be  here  to-day." 

"  Ah,  by  the  way,  so  he  was.  The  time  's  getting 
on  too,"  said  his  lordship,  looking  at  his  watch* 
"But  he  only  got  to  Diplow  the  other  day.  He 
came  to  us  on  Tuesday,  and  said  he  had  been  a  lit~ 
tie  bothered.  He  may  have  been  pulled  in  another 
direction.  Why,  Gascoigne  I  "  —  the  Eector  was 
just  then  crossing  at  a  little  distance  with  Gwen- 
dolen on  his  arm,  and  turned  in  compliance  with 
the  call,  —  "  this  is  a  little  too  bad  ;  you  not  only 
beat  us  yourself,  but  you  bring  up  your  niece  to 
beat  all  the  archeresses." 

"  It  is  rather  scandalous  in  her  to  get  the  better 
of  elder  members,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne,  with  much 
inward  satisfaction  curling  his  short  upper  lip. 
"  But  it  is  not  my  doing,  my  lord.  I  only  meant  her 
to  make  a  tolerable  figure,  without  surpassing  any 
one." 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,  either,"  said  Gwendolen,  with 
pretty  archness.  "  If  I  am  to  aim,  I  can't  help 
hitting." 


MO  DANIEL  DEROXDA. 

"  Ay,  ay,  that  may  be  a  fatal  business  for  some 
people,"  said  Lord  Brackenshaw,  good-humouredly  ; 
then  taking  out  his  watch  and  looking  at  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint  again  :  "The  time's  getting  on,  as  you 
say.  But  Grandcourt  is  always  late.  I  notice  in 
town  he 's  always  late,  and  he 's  no  bowman,  —  un- 
derstands nothing  about  it.  But  I  told  him  he 
must  come ;  he  would  see  the  flower  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood here.  He  asked  about  you,  —  had  seen 
Arrowpoint's  card.  I  think  you  had  not  made  his 
acquaintance  in  town.  He  has  been  a  good  deal 
abroad.     People  don't  know  him  much." 

"No;  we  are  strangers,"  said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint. 
"  But  that  is  not  what  might  have  been  expected. 
For  his  uncle  Sir  Hugo  Mallinger  and  I  are  great 
friends  when  we  meet." 

"  I  don't  know ;  uncles  and  nephews  are  not  so 
likely  to  be  seen  together  as  uncles  and  nieces," 
said  his  lordship,  smiling  towards  the  Rector.  "  But 
just  come  with  me  one  instant,  Gascoigne,  will  you  ? 
I  want  to  speak  a  word  about  the  clout-shooting." 

Gwendolen  chose  to  go  too,  and  be  deposited  in 
the  same  group  with  her  mamma  and  aunt  until 
she  had  to  shoot  again.  Tliat  Mr.  Grandcourt  might 
after  all  not  appear  on  the  archery-ground,  had  be- 
gun to  enter  into  Gwendolen's  thought  as  a  possible 
deduction  from  the  completeness  of  her  pleasure. 
Under  all  her  saucy  satire,  provoked  chiefly  by  her 
divination  that  her  friends  thought  of  him  as  a 
desirable  matcli  for  her,  she  felt  something  very  far 
from  indifference  as  to  the  impression  she  would 
make  on  him.  True,  he  was  not  to  have  the  slight- 
est power  over  her  (for  Gwendolen  had  not  consid- 
ered that  the  desire  to  conquer  is  itself  a  sort  of 
subjection) ;  she  had  made  up  her  mind  that  he  was 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  141 

to  be  one  of  those  complimentary  and  assiduously 
admiring  men  of  whom  even  her  narrow  experience 
had  shown  her  several  with  various-coloured  beards 
and  various  styles  of  bearing ;  and  the  sense  that 
her  friends  would  want  her  to  think  him  delightful, 
gave  her  a  resistant  inclination  to  presuppose  him 
ridiculous.  But  that  was  no  reason  why  she  could 
spare  his  presence ;  and  even  a  passing  prevision  of 
trouble  in  case  she  despised  and  refused  him,  raised 
not  the  shadow  of  a  wish  that  he  should  save  her 
that  trouble  by  showing  no  disposition  to  make  her  an 
offer.  Mr.  Grandcourt  taking  hardly  any  notice  of  her, 
and  becoming  shortly  engaged  to  Miss  Arrowpoint, 
was  not  a  picture  which  flattered  her  imagination. 

Hence  Gwendolen  had  been  all  ear  to  Lord  Brack- 
enshaw's  mode  of  accounting  for  Grandcourt's 
non-appearance ;  and  when  he  did  arrive,  no  con- 
sciousness —  not  even  Mrs.  Arrowpoint's  or  Mr. 
Gascoigne's  —  was  more  awake  to  the  fact  than  hers, 
although  she  steadily  avoided  looking  towards  any 
point  where  he  was  likely  to  be.  There  should  be 
no  slightest  shifting  of  angles  to  betray  that  it  was  of 
any  consequence  to  her  whether  the  much-talked-of 
Mr.  Mallinger  Grandcourt  presented  himself  or  not. 
She  became  again  absorbed  in  the  shooting,  and  so 
resolutely  abstained  from  looking  round  observantly 
that,  even  supposing  him  to  have  taken  a  conspicu- 
ous place  among  the  spectators,  it  might  be  clear 
she  was  not  aware  of  him.  And  all  the  while  the 
certainty  that  he  was  there  made  a  distinct  thread 
in  her  consciousness.  Perhaps  her  shooting  was  the 
better  for  it :  at  any  rate,  it  gained  in  precision,  and 
she  at  last  raised  a  delightful  storm  of  clapping  and 
applause  by  three  hits  running  in  the  gold,  —  a  feat 
which  among  the  Brackenshaw  archers  had  not  the 


142  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

vulgar  reward  of  a  shilling  poll-tax,  but  that  of  a 
special  gold  star  to  be  worn  on  the  breast.  That 
moment  was  not  only  a  happy  one  to  herself,  —  it 
was  just  what  her  mamma  and  her  uncle  would 
have  chosen  for  her.  There  was  a  general  falling 
into  ranks  to  give  her  space  that  she  might  advance 
conspicuously  to  receive  the  gold  star  from  the 
liands  of  Lady  Brackenshaw  ;  and  the  perfect  move- 
ment of  her  fine  form  was  certainly  a  pleasant  thing 
to  behold  in  the  clear  afternoon  light,  when  the 
shadows  were  long  and  still.  She  was  the  central 
object  of  that  pretty  picture,  and  every  one  present 
must  gaze  at  her.  That  was  enough  :  she  herself 
was  determined  to  see  nobody  in  particular,  or  to 
turn  her  eyes  any  way  except  towards  Lady  Bracken- 
shaw, but  her  thoughts  undeniably  turned  in  other 
ways.  It  entered  a  little  into  her  pleasure  that 
Herr  Klesmer  must  be  observing  her  at  a  moment 
when  music  was  out  of  the  question,  and  his  supe- 
riority very  far  in  the  background ;  for  vanity  is  as 
ill  at  ease  under  indifference  as  tenderness  is  under 
a  love  which  it  cannot  return  ;  and  the  unconquered 
Klesmer  threw  a  trace  of  his  malign  power  even 
across  her  pleasant  consciousness  that  Mr.  Grand- 
court  was  seeing  her  to  the  utmost  advantage,  and 
was  probably  giving  her  an  admiration  unmixed 
with  criticism.  She  did  not  expect  to  admire  him, 
but  that  was  not  necessary  to  her  peace  of  mind. 

Gwendolen  met  Lady  Brackenshaw's  gracious 
smile  without  blushing  (which  only  came  to  her 
when  she  was  taken  by  surprise),  but  with  a  charm- 
ing gladness  of  expression,  and  then  bent  with  easy 
grace  to  have  the  star  fixed  near  her  shoulder. 
That  little  ceremony  had  been  over  long  enough 
for  her  to   have   exchanged  playful  speeches  and 


THE  SPOILED  CHILD.  143 

received  congratulations  as  she  moved  among  the 
groups  who  were  now  interesting  themselves  in  the 
results  of  the  scoring;  but  it  happened  that  she 
stood  outside  examining  the  point  of  an  arrow  with 
rather  an  absent  air  when  Lord  Brackenshaw  came 
up  to  her  and  said,  — 

'•  Miss  Harleth,  here  is  a  gentleman  who  is  not 
willing  to  wait  any  longer  for  an  introduction.  He 
has  been  getting  Mrs.  Davilow  to  send  me  with 
him.  Will  you  allow  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Mallinger 
Grandcourt  ? " 


BOOK    11. 

MEETING  STREAMS. 


CHAPTER  XL 

"The  beginning  of  an  acquaintance  whether  with  persons  oi 
things  is  to  get  a  definite  outline  for  our  ignorance." 

Mr.  Grandcourt's  wish  to  be  introduced  had  no 
suddenness  for  Gwendolen ;  but  when  Lord  Bracken- 
shaw  moved  aside  a  little  for  the  prefigured  stranger 
to  come  forward,  and  she  felt  herself  face  to  face 
with  the  real  man,  there  was  a  little  shock  which 
flushed  her  cheeks  and  vexatiously  deepened  with 
her  consciousness  of  it.  The  shock  came  from  the 
reversal  of  her  expectations :  Grandcourt  could 
hardly  have  been  more  unlike  all  her  imaginary 
portraits  of  him.  He  was  slightly  taller  than  her- 
.self,  and  their  eyes  seemed  to  be  on  a  level ;  there 
was  not  the  faintest  smile  on  his  face  as  he  looked 
at  her,  not  a  trace  of  self-consciousness  or  anxiety 
in  his  bearing ;  when  he  raised  his  hat  he  showed 
an  extensive  baldness  surrounded  with  a  mere  fringe 
of  reddish-blond  hair,  but  he  also  showed  a  perfect 
hand ;  the  line  of  feature  from  brow  to  chin  undis- 
guised by  beard  was  decidedly  handsome,  with  only 
moderate  departures  from  the  perpendicular,  and 
the  slight  whisker  too  was  perpendicular.  It  was 
not  possible  for  a  human  aspect  to  be  freer  from 
grimace  or  solicitous  wrigglings;  also  it  was  per- 


r'^,A,\LLi„iiiL>,.;ij  ''''i'mi  '■'''Ylil'"'"'i>-'""inJtiihlfH(r-  "■JJ''*'"''''"Ulljli,.i.'.i:.fcLi:i;.f;i,';,j;imUllfllii''|iVl'':'.  ,iiHLi,ifl*llllilli5; 


Grandcoukt  and  Gwendolen  at  the  Arcuery  Tournament. 


MEETING  STREAMS.  145 

haps  not  possible  for  a  breathing  man  wide  awake 
to  look  less  animated.  The  correct  Englishman, 
drawing  himself  up  from  his  bow  into  rigidity,  as- 
senting severely,  and  seeming  to  be  in  a  state  of 
internal  drill,  suggests  a  suppressed  vivacity,  and 
may  be  suspected  of  letting  go  with  some  violence 
when  he  is  released  from  parade ;  but  Gramdcourt's 
bearing  had  no  rigidity,  it  inclined  rather  to  be  flac- 
cid. His  complexion  had  a  faded  fairness  resem- 
bling that  of  an  actress  when  bare  of  the  artificial 
white  and  red ;  his  long  narrow  gray  eyes  expressed 
nothing  but  indifference.  Attempts  at  description 
are  stupid :  who  can  all  at  once  describe  a  human 
being  ?  even  when  he  is  presented  to  us  we  only 
begin  that  knowledge  of  his  appearance  which  must 
be  completed  by  innumerable  impressions  under 
differing  circumstances.  We  recognize  the  alpha- 
bet ;  we  are  not  sure  of  the  language.  I  am  only 
mentioning  the  points  that  Gwendolen  saw  by  the 
light  of  a  prepared  contrast  in  the  first  minutes  of 
her  meeting  with  Grandcourt:  they  were  summed 
up  in  the  words,  "  He  is  not  ridiculous."  But  forth- 
with Lord  Brackenshaw  was  gone,  and  what  is 
called  conversation  had  begun,  the  first  and  con- 
stant element  in  it  being  that  Grandcourt  looked 
at  Gwendolen  persistently  with  a  slightly  exploring 
gaze,  but  without  change  of  expression,  while  she 
only  occasionally  looked  at  him  with  a  flash  of  ob- 
servation a  little  softened  by  coquetry.  Also,  after 
her  answers  there  was  a  longer  or  shorter  pause 
before  he  spoke  again. 

"I  used  to  think  archery  was  a  great  bore,"  Grand- 
court  began.  He  spoke  with  a  fine  accent,  but  with 
a  certain  broken  drawl,  as  of  a  distinguished  person- 
age with  a  distinguished  cold  on  his  chest. 

VOL.  I.  — 10 


146  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  Are  you  converted  to-day  ?  "  said  Gwendolen. 

(Pause,  during  which  she  imagined  various 
degrees  and  modes  of  opinion  about  herself  that 
might  be  entertained  by  Grandcourt.) 

"  Yes,  since  I  saw  you  shooting.  In  things  of 
this  sort  one  generally  sees  people  missing  and 
simpering." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  a  first-rate  shot  with  a  rifle." 

(Pause,  during  which  Gwendolen,  having  taken 
a  rapid  observation  of  Grandcourt,  made  a  brief 
graphic  description  of  him  to  an  indefinite  hearer.) 

"  I  have  left  off  shooting." 

"  Oh,  then,  you  are  a  formidable  person.  People 
who  have  done  things  once  and  left  them  off  make 
one  feel  very  contemptible,  as  if  one  were  using  cast- 
off  fashions.  I  hope  you  have  not  left  off  all  follies, 
because  I  practise  a  great  many." 

(Pause,  during  which  Gwendolen  made  several 
interpretations  of  her  own  speech.) 

"  What  do  you  call  follies  ? " 

"  Well,  in  general,  I  think  whatever  is  agreeable 
is  called  a  folly.  But  you  have  not  left  off  hunting, 
I  hear." 

(Pause,  wherein  Gwendolen  recalled  what  she  had 
heard  about  Grandcourt's  position,  and  decided  that 
he  was  the  most  aristocratic-looking  man  she  had 
ever  seen.) 

"  One  must  do  something." 

"And  do  you  care  about  the  turf  —  or  is  that 
among  the  things  you  have  left  off?" 

(Pause,  during  which  Gwendolen  thought  that  a 
man  of  extremely  calm,  cold  manners  might  be  less 
disagreeable  as  a  husband  than  other  men,  and  not 
likely  to  interfere  with  his  wife's  preferences.) 

"  I  run  a  horse  now  and  then  ;  but  I  don't  go  in 


MEETING  STREAMS.  147 

for  the  thing  as  some  men  do.  Are  you  fond  of 
horses  ? " 

"Yes,  indeed:  I  never  like  my  life  so  well  as 
when  I  am  on  horseback,  having  a  great  gallop.  I 
think  of  nothing.  I  only  feel  myself  strong  and 
happy." 

(Pause,  wherein  Gwendolen  wondered  whether 
Grandcourt  would  like  what  she  said,  but  assured 
herself  that  she  was  not  going  to  disguise  her 
tastes.) 

"  Do  you  like  danger  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  When  T  am  on  horseback  I 
never  think  of  danger.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  I 
broke  my  bones  I  should  not  feel  it.  I  should  go 
at  anything  that  came  in  my  way." 

(Pause,  during  which  Gwendolen  had  run  through 
a  whole  hunting-season  with  two  chosen  hunters  to 
ride  at  will.) 

"  You  would,  perhaps,  like  tiger-hunting  or  pig- 
sticking. I  saw  some  of  that  for  a  season  or  two 
in  the  East.  Everything  here  is  poor  stuff  after 
that." 

"  You  are  fond  of  danger,  then  ?  " 

(Pause,  wherein  Gwendolen  speculated  on  the 
probability  that  the  men  of  coldest  manners  were 
the  most  adventurous,  and  felt  the  strength  of  her 
own  insight,  supposing  the  question  had  to  be 
decided.) 

"  One  must  have  something  or  other.  But  one 
gets  used  to  it." 

"  I  begin  to  think  I  am  very  fortunate,  because 
everything  is  new  to  me:  it  is  only  that  I  can't 
get  enough  of  it.  I  am  not  used  to  anything 
except  being  dull,  which  I  should  like  to  leave 
off  as  you  have  left  off  shooting." 


148  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

(Pause,  during  which  it  occurred  to  Gwendolen 
that  a  man  of  cold  and  distinguished  manners 
might  possibly  be  a  dull  companion ;  but  on  the 
other  hand,  she  thought  that  most  persons  were 
dull,  that  she  had  not  observed  husbands  to  be 
companions,  and  that  after  all  she  was  not  going 
to  accept  Grandcourt.) 

"  Why  are  you  dull  ? " 

"This  is  a  dreadful  neighbourhood.  There  is 
nothing  to  be  done  in  it.  That  is  why  I  practised 
my  archery." 

(Pause,  during  which  Gwendolen  reflected  that 
the  life  of  an  unmarried  woman  who  could  not  go 
about  and  had  no  command  of  anything,  must 
necessarily  be  dull  through  all  the  degrees  of  com- 
parison as  time  went  on.) 

"  You  have  made  yourself  queen  of  it.  I  imagine 
you  will  carry  the  first  prize." 

"I  don't  know  that.  I  have  great  rivals.  Did 
you  not  observe  how  well  Miss  Arrowpoint  shot  ? " 

(Pause,  wherein  Gwendolen  was  thinking  that 
men  had  been  known  to  choose  some  one  else 
than  the  woman  they  most  admired,  and  recalled 
several  experiences  of  that  kind  in  novels.) 

"  Miss  Arrowpoint  ?     No  —  that  is,  yes." 

"  Shall  we  go  now  and  hear  what  the  scoring 
says  ?  Every  one  is  going  to  the  other  end  now ; 
shall  we  join  them  ?  I  think  my  uncle  is  looking 
towards  me.     He  perhaps  wants  me." 

Gwendolen  found  a  relief  for  herself  by  thus 
changing  the  situation :  not  that  the  tete-a-tete  was 
quite  disagreeable  to  her;  but  while  it  lasted  she 
apparently  could  not  get  rid  of  the  unwonted  flush 
in  her  cheeks  and  the  sense  of  surprise  which  made 
her  feel  less  mistress  of  herself  than   usual.     And 


MEETING  STREAMS.  149 

this  Mr.  Grandcourt,  who  seemed  to  feel  his  own 
importance  more  than  he  did  hers,  —  a  sort  of 
unreasonableness  few  of  us  can  tolerate,  —  must 
not  take  for  granted  that  he  was  of  great  moment 
to  her,  or  that  because  others  speculated  on  him  as 
a  desirable  match  she  held  herself  altogether  at 
his  beck.  How  Grandcourt  had  filled  up  the 
pauses  will  be  more  evident  hereafter. 

"  You  have  just  missed  the  gold  arrow,  Gwendo- 
len," said  Mr.  Gascoigne.  "  Miss  Juliet  Fenn  scores 
eight  above  you." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it.  I  should  have  felt 
that  I  was  making  myself  too  disagreeable,  —  taking 
the  best  of  everything,"  said  Gwendolen,  quite 
easily. 

It  was  impossible  to  be  jealous  of  Juliet  Fenn,  a 
girl  as  middling  as  midday  market  in  everything 
but  her  archery  and  her  plainness,  in  which  last  she 
was  noticeably  like  her  father :  underhung  and  with 
receding  brow  resembling  that  of  the  more  intelli- 
gent fishes.  (Surely,  considering  the  importance 
which  is  given  to  such  an  accident  in  female  off- 
spring, marriageable  men,  or  what  the  new  English 
calls  "  intending  bridegrooms,"  should  look  at  them- 
selves dispassionately  in  the  glass,  since  their 
natural  selection  of  a  mate  prettier  than  them- 
selves is  not  certain  to  bar  the  effect  of  their  own 
ugliness.) 

There  was  now  a  lively  movement  in  the  mingling 
groups,  which  carried  the  talk  along  with  it.  Every 
one  spoke  to  every  one  else  by  turns  ;  and  Gwendo- 
len, who  chose  to  see  what  was  going  on  around  her 
now,  observed  that  Grandcourt  was  having  Klesmer 
presented  to  him  by  some  one  unknown  to  her,  — 
a  middle-aged   man   with   dark   full  face   and   fat 


150  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

hands,  who  seemed  to  be  on  the  easiest  terms  with 
both,  and  presently  led  the  way  in  joining  the 
Arrowpoiuts,  whose  acquaintance  had  already  been 
made  by  both  him  and  Grandcourt.  Who  this 
stranger  was  she  did  not  care  much  to  know ;  but 
she  wished  to  observe  what  was  Grandcourt's  man- 
ner towards  others  than  herself.  Precisely  the 
same :  except  that  he  did  not  look  much  at  Miss 
Arrowpoint,  but  rather  at  Klesmer,  who  was  speak- 
ing with  animation,  —  now  stretching  out  his  long 
fingers  horizontally,  now  pointing  downwards  with 
his  forefinger,  now  folding  his  arms  and  tossing  his 
mane,  while  he  addressed  himself  first  to  one  and 
then  the  other,  including  Grandcourt,  who  listened 
with  ail  impassive  face  and  narrow  eyes,  his  left 
forefinger  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  his  right 
slightly  touching  his  thin  whisker. 

"  I  wonder  which  style  Miss  Arrowpoint  admires 
most, "  was  a  thought  that  glanced  through  Gwen- 
dolen's mind  while  her  eyes  and  lips  gathered 
rather  a  mocking  expression.  But  she  would  not 
indulge  her  sense  of  amusement  by  watching  as  if 
she  were  curious,  and  she  gave  all  her  animation 
to  those  immediately  around  her,  determined  not 
to  care  whether  Mr.  Grandcourt  came  near  her 
again  or  not. 

He  did  come,  however,  and  at  a  moment  when 
he  could  propose  to  conduct  Mrs.  Davilow  to  her 
carriage.  "  Shall  we  meet  again  in  the  ballroom  ?  ' 
she  said,  as  he  raised  his  hat  at  parting.  The 
"  yes  "  in  reply  had  the  usual  slight  drawl  and 
perfect  gravity. 

"  You  were  wrong  for  once,  Gwendolen, "  said 
Mrs.  Davilow,  during  their  few  minutes'  drive  to 
the  castle. 


MEETING  STREAMS.  151 

"  In  what,  mamma  ?  " 

"  About  Mr.  Grandcourt's  appearance  and  man- 
ners.    You  can't  find  anything  ridiculous  in  him.  " 

"  I  suppose  I  could  if  I  tried,  but  I  don't  want 
to  do  it, "  said  Gwendolen,  rather  pettishly ;  and 
her  mamma  was  afraid  to  say  more. 

It  was  the  rule  on  these  occasions  for  the  ladies 
and  gentlemen  to  dine  apart,  so  that  the  dinner 
might  make  a  time  of  comparative  ease  and  rest  for 
both.  Indeed  the  gentlemen  had  a  set  of  archery 
stories  about  the  epicurism  of  the  ladies,  who  had 
somehow  been  reported  to  show  a  revolting  mascu- 
line judgment  in  venison,  even  asking  for  the  fat, 
—  a  proof  of  the  frightful  rate  at  which  corruption 
might  go  on  in  women,  but  for  severe  social  re- 
straint. And  every  year  the  amiable  Lord  Bracken- 
shaw,  who  was  something  of  a  gourmet,  mentioned 
Byron's  opinion  that  a  woman  should  never  be 
seen  eating, —  introducing  it  with  a  confidential 
"  The  fact  is  "  —  as  if  he  were  for  the  first  time 
admitting  his  concurrence  in  that  sentiment  of  the 
refined  poet. 

In  the  ladies'  dining-room  it  was  evident  that 
Gwendolen  was  not  a  general  favourite  with  her 
own  sex ;  there  were  no  beginnings  of  intimacy 
between  her  and  other  girls,  and  in  conversation 
they  rather  noticed  what  she  said  than  spoke  to 
her  in  free  exchange.  Perhaps  it  was  that  she  was 
not  much  interested  in  them,  and  when  left  alone 
in  their  company  had  a  sense  of  empty  benches. 
Mrs.  Vulcany  once  remarked  that  Miss  Harleth 
was  too  fond  of  the  gentlemen ;  but  we  know  that 
she  was  not  in  the  least  fond  of  them,  —  she  was 
only  fond  of  their  homage,  and  women  did  not 
give  her  homage.     The  exception  to  this  willing 


152  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

aloofness  from  her  was  Miss  Arrowpoint,  who  often 
managed  unostentatiously  to  be  by  her  side,  and 
talked  to  her  with  quiet  friendliness. 

"  She  knows,  as  I  do,  that  our  friends  are  ready 
to  quarrel  over  a  husband  for  us, '  thought  Gwen- 
dolen, "  and  she  is  determined  not  to  enter  into 
the  quarrel. " 

"  I  think  Miss  Arrowpoint  has  the  best  manners 
I  ever  saw, "  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  when  she  and 
Gwendolen  were  in  a  dressing-room  with  Mrs. 
Gascoigne  and  Anna,  but  at  a  distance  where  they 
could  have  their  talk  apart. 

"  I  wish  I  were  like  her, "  said  Gwendolen. 

"  Why  ?  Are  you  getting  discontented  with 
yourself,  Gwen  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  am  discontented  with  things.  She 
seems  contented. " 

"  I  am  sure  you  ought  to  be  satisfied  to-day.  You 
must  have  enjoyed  the  shooting.     I  saw  you  did.  * 

*  Oh,  that  is  over  now,  and  I  don't  know  what 
will  come  next, "  said  Gwendolen,  stretching  her- 
self with  a  sort  of  moan  and  throwing  up  her  arms. 
They  were  bare  now :  it  was  the  fashion  to  dance 
in  the  archery  dress,  throwing  off  the  jacket ;  and 
the  simplicity  of  her  white  cashmere  with  its  bor- 
der of  pale  green  set  off  her  form  to  the  utmost. 
A  thin  line  of  gold  round  her  neck,  and  the  gold 
star  on  her  breast,  were  her  only  ornaments.  Her 
smooth  soft  hair  piled  up  into  a  grand  crown  made 
a  clear  line  about  her  brow.  Sir  Joshua  would 
hjive  been  glad  to  take  her  portrait ;  and  he  would 
have  had  an  easier  task  than  the  historian  at  least 
in  this,  that  he  would  not  have  had  to  represent 
the  truth  of  change,  — only  to  give  stability  to  one 
beautiful  moment. 


MEETING  STREAMS.  153 

"  The  dancing  will  come  next, "  said  Mrs.  Davi- 
low.     "  You  are  sure  to  enjoy  that. " 

"  I  shall  only  dance  in  the  quadrille.  I  told  Mr. 
Clintock  so.  I  shall  not  waltz  or  polk  with  any 
one." 

"  Why  in  the  world  do  you  say  that  all  on  a 
sudden  ?  " 

"  I  can't  bear  having  ugly  people  so  near  me. ' 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  by  ugly  people  ?  " 

"  Oh,  plenty.  " 

"  Mr.  Clintock,  for  example,  is  not  ugly.  "  Mrs. 
Davilow  dared  not  mention  Grandcourt. 

"  Well,  I  hate  woollen  cloth  touching  me.  " 

"  Fancy !  "  said  Mrs.  Davilow  to  her  sister,  who 
now  came  up  from  the  other  end  of  the  room. 
"  Gwendolen  says  she  will  not  waltz  or  polk. " 

"  She  is  rather  given  to  whims,  I  think, "  said 
Mrs.  Gascoigne,  gravely.  "  It  would  be  more  be- 
coming in  her  to  behave  as  other  young  ladies  do 
on  such  an  occasion  as  this,  especially  when  she  has 
had  the  advantage  of  first-rate  dancing-lessons.  " 

'Why  should  I  waltz  if  I  don't  like  it,  aunt? 
It  is  not  in  the  Catechism.  " 

"  My  dear  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gascoigne,  in  a  tone  of 
severe  check ;  and  Anna  looked  frightened  at  Gwen- 
dolen's daring.  But  they  all  passed  on  without 
saying  mora 

Apparently  something  had  changed  Gwendolen's 
mood  since  the  hour  of  exulting  enjoyment  in  the 
archery -ground.  But  she  did  not  look  the  worse 
under  the  chandeliers  in  the  ball-room,  where  the 
soft  splendour  of  the  scene  and  the  pleasant  odours 
from  the  conservatory  could  not  but  be  soothing  to 
the  temper,  when  accompanied  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  being  pre-eminently  sought  for.     Hardly  a 


154  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

dancing  man  but  was  anxious  to  have  her  for  a 
partner,  and  each  whom  she  accepted  was  in  a 
state  of  melancholy  remonstrance  that  she  would 
not  waltz  or  polk. 

"  Are  you  under  a  vow,  Miss  Harleth  ? "  — 
"  Why  are  you  so  cruel  to  us  all  ? "  —  "  You  waltzed 
with  me  in  February." — "And  you  who  waltz 
so  perfectly!  "  were  exclamations  not  without  pi- 
quancy for  her.  The  ladies  who  waltzed,  naturally 
thought  that  Miss  Harleth  only  wanted  to  make 
herself  particular;  but  her  uncle  when  he  over- 
heard her  refusal  supported  her  by  saying,  — 

"  Gwendolen  has  usually  good  reasons. "  He 
thought  she  was  certainly  more  distinguished  in 
not  waltzing,  and  he  wished  her  to  be  distin- 
guished. The  archery-ball  was  intended  to  be 
kept  at  the  subdued  pitch  that  suited  all  dignities, 
clerical  and  secular;  it  was  not  an  escapement  for 
youthful  high  spirits,  and  he  himself  was  of  opin- 
ion that  the  fashionable  dances  were  too  much  of 
a  romp. 

Among  the  remonstrant  dancing  men,  however, 
Mr.  Grandcourt  was  not  numbered.  After  stand- 
ing up  for  a  quadrille  with  Miss  Arrowpoint,  it 
seemed  that  he  meant  to  ask  for  no  other  partner. 
Gwendolen  observed  him  frequently  with  the 
Arrowpoints,  but  he  never  took  an  opportunity  of 
approaching  her.  Mr.  Gascoigne  was  sometimes 
speaking  to  him;  but  Mr.  Gascoigne  was  every- 
where. It  was  in  her  mind  now  that  she  would 
probably  after  all  not  have  the  least  trouble  about 
him  :  perhaps  he  had  looked  at  her  without  any 
particular  admiration,  and  was  too  much  used  to 
everything  in  the  world  to  think  of  her  as  more 
than  one  of  the  girls  who  were  invited  in  that  part 


MEETING  STREAMS.  155 

of  the  country.  Of  course !  It  was  ridiculous  of 
elders  to  entertain  notions  about  what  a  man 
would  do,  without  having  seen  him  even  through 
a  telescope.  Probably  he  meant  to  marry  Miss 
Arrowpoint.  Whatever  might  come,  she,  Gwen- 
dolen, was  not  going  to  be  disappointed :  the  affair 
was  a  joke  whichever  way  it  turned,  for  she  had 
never  committed  herself  even  by  a  silent  confidence 
in  anything  Mr.  Grandcourt  would  do.  Still,  she 
noticed  that  he  did  sometimes  quietly  and  gradu- 
ally change  his  position  according  to  hers,  so  that 
he  could  see  her  whenever  she  was  dancing,  and  if 
he  did  not  admire  her  —  so  much  the  worse  for 
him. 

This  movement  for  the  sake  of  being  in  sight  of 
her  was  more  direct  than  usual  rather  late  in  the 
evening,  when  Gwendolen  had  accepted  Klesmer 
as  a  partner ;  and  that  wide-glancing  personage, 
who  saw  everything  and  nothing  by  turns,  said  to 
her  when  they  were  walking,  "  Mr.  Grandcourt  is 
a  man  of  taste.     He  likes  to  see  you  dancing. " 

"  Perhaps  he  likes  to  look  at  what  is  against  his 
taste, "  said  Gwendolen,  with  a  light  laugh :  she 
was  quite  courageous  with  Klesmer  now.  "  He 
may  be  so  tired  of  admiring  that  he  likes  disgust 
for  a  variety. " 

"  Those  words  are  not  suitable  to  your  lips, " 
said  Klesmer,  quickly,  with  one  of  his  grand 
frowns,  while  he  shook  his  hand  as  if  to  banish 
the  discordant  sounds. 

"  Are  you  as  critical  of  words  as  of  music  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  am.  I  should  require  your  words 
to  be  what  your  face  and  form  are,  —  always  among 
the  meanings  of  a  noble  music.  " 

"  That  is  a  compliment  as  well  as  a  correction 


156  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

I  am  obliged  for  both.  But  do  you  Icnow  I  am 
bold  enough  to  wish  to  correct  you,  and  require 
you  to  understand  a  joke  ?  " 

"  One  may  understand  jokes  without  liking 
them, '  said  the  terrible  Klesmer  "  I  have  had 
opera  books  sent  me  full  of  jokes ;  it  was  just  be- 
cause I  understood  them  that  I  did  not  like  them. 
The  comic  people  are  ready  to  challenge  a  man 
because  he  looks  grava  '  You  don't  see  the  wit- 
ticism, sir  ? '  '  No,  sir,  but  I  see  what  you  meant. ' 
Then  I  am  what  we  call  ticketed  as  a  fellow  with- 
out esprit.  But,  in  fact, "  said  Klesmer,  suddenly 
dropping  from  his  quick  narrative  to  a  reflective 
tone,  with  an  impressive  frown,  "  I  am  very  sensi- 
ble to  wit  and  humour. ' 

"  I  am  glad  you  tell  me  that, "  said  Gwen- 
dolen, not  without  some  wickedness  of  intention. 
But  Klesmer's  thoughts  had  flown  off  on  the  wings 
of  his  own  statement,  as  their  habit  was,  and  she 
had  the  wickedness  all  to  herself.  "  Pray,  who  is 
tliat  standing  near  the  card-room  door  ?  "  she  went 
on,  seeing  there  the  same  stranger  with  whom 
Klesmer  had  been  in  animated  talk  on  the  archery- 
ground.     "  He  is  a  friend  of  yours,  I  think.  " 

"  No,  no ;  an  amateur  I  have  seen  in  town : 
Lush,  a  Mr.  Lush,  — too  fond  of  Meyerbeer  and 
Scribe,  —  too  fond  of  the  mechanical-dramatic.  * 

"  Thanks.  I  wanted  to  know  whether  you 
thought  his  face  and  form  required  that  his  words 
should  be  among  the  meanings  of  noble  music  ? ' 
'Klesmer  was  conquered,  and  flashed  at  her  a  de- 
lightful smile  which  made  them  quite  friendly 
imtil  she  begged  to  be  deposited  by  the  side  of  her 
mamma. 

Three  minutes  afterwards  her  preparations  foi 


MEETING  STREAMS.  157 

Grandcourt's  indifference  were  all  cancelled.  Turn- 
ing her  head  after  some  remark  to  her  mother,  she 
found  that  he  had  made  his  way  up  to  her. 

"  May  I  ask  if  you  are  tired  of  dancing,  Miss 
Harleth  ?  "  he  began,  looking  down  with  his  for- 
mer unperturbed  expression. 

"  Not  in  the  least.  " 

"  Will  you  do  me  the  honour  —  the  next  —  or 
another  quadrille  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  been  very  happy, "  said  Gwen- 
dolen, looking  at  her  card,  "  but  I  am  engaged  for 
the  next  to  Mr.  Clintock  —  and  indeed  I  perceive 
that  I  am  doomed  for  every  quadrille :  I  have  not 
one  to  dispose  of. "  She  was  not  sorry  to  punish 
Mr.  Grandcourt's  tardiness,  yet  at  the  same  time 
she  would  have  liked  to  dance  with  him.  She 
gave  him  a  charming  smile  as  she  looked  up  to 
deliver  her  answer,  and  he  stood  still  looking  down 
at  her  with  no  smile  at  alL 

"  I  am  unfortunate  in  being  too  late, "  he  said, 
after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  that  you  did  not  care  for  dan- 
cing, "  said  Gwendolen.  "  I  thought  it  might  be 
one  of  the  things  you  had  left  off.  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  have  not  begun  to  dance  with  you, ' 
said  Grandcourt.  Always  there  was  the  same 
pause  before  he  took  up  his  cue.  "  You  make 
dancing  a  new  thing,  as  you  make  archery. " 

"  Is  novelty  always  agreeable  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  —  not  always.  " 

"  Then  I  don't  know  whether  to  feel  flattered  or 
not.  When  you  had  once  danced  with  me,  there 
would  be  no  more  novelty  in  it. " 

"  On  the  contrary,  there  would  probably  be  much 
more. " 


iS8  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  That  is  deep.     I  don't  understand.  ' 

"  Is  it  difficult  to  make  Miss  Harleth  understand 
her  power  ? "  Here  Grandcourt  had  turned  to  Mrs. 
Davilow,  who,  smiling  gently  at  her  daughter, 
said,  — 

"  I  think  she  does  not  generally  strike  people  as 
slow  to  understand.  " 

"  Mamma, "  said  Gwendolen,  in  a  deprecating 
tone,  "  I  am  adorably  stupid,  and  want  every- 
thing explained  to  me  —  when  the  meaning  is 
pleasant. " 

"  If  you  are  stupid,  I  admit  that  stupidity  is 
adorable,"  returned  Grandcourt,  after  the  usual 
pause,  and  without  change  of  tona  But  clearly 
he  knew  what  to  say. 

"  I  begin  to  think  that  my  cavalier  has  forgotten 
me, "  Gwendolen  observed  after  a  little  whila  "  I 
see  the  quadrille  is  being  formed.  " 

"  He  deserves  to  be  renounced, "  said  Grandcourt. 

**  I  think  he  is  very  pardonable, "  said  Gwendolen. 

"  There  must  have  been  some  misunderstand- 
ing, *  said  Mrs.  Davilow.  "  Mr.  Clintock  was  too 
anxious  about  the  engagement  to  have  forgotten 
it." 

But  now  Lady  Brackenshaw  came  up  and  said, 
"  Miss  Harleth,  Mr.  Clintock  has  charged  me  to 
express  to  you  his  deep  regret  that  he  was  obliged 
to  leave  without  having  the  pleasure  of  dancing 
with  you  again.  An  express  came  from  his  father 
the  archdeacon,  —  something  important ;  he  was 
obliged  to  go.     He  was  au  desespoir.  " 

"  Oh,  he  was  very  good  to  remember  the  engage- 
ment under  the  circumstances,"  said  Gwendolea 
"  I  am  sorry  he  was  called  away.  "  It  was  easy  to 
be  politely  sorrowful  on  so  felicitous  au  occasion. 


MEETING  STREAMS.  159 

"  Then  I  can  profit  by  Mr.  Clintock's  misfor- 
tune ?  "  said  Grandcourt.  "  May  I  hope  that  you 
will  let  me  take  his  place  ? " 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  dance  the  next  quad- 
rille with  you. " 

The  appropriateness  of  the  event  seemed  an 
augury ;  and  as  Gwendolen  stood  up  for  the  quad- 
rille with  Grandcourt,  there  was  a  revival  in  her 
of  the  exultation,  the  sense  of  carrying  every- 
thing before  her,  which  she  had  felt  earlier  in  the 
day.  No  man  could  have  walked  through  the 
quadrille  with  more  irreproachable  ease  than 
Grandcourt;  and  the  absence  of  all  eagerness  in 
his  attention  to  her  suited  his  partner's  taste. 
She  was  now  convinced  that  he  meant  to  distin- 
guish her,  to  mark  his  admiration  of  her  in  a 
noticeable  way ;  and  it  began  to  appear  probable 
that  she  would  have  it  in  her  power  to  reject  him, 
whence  there  was  a  pleasure  in  reckoning  up  the 
advantages  which  would  make  her  rejection  splen- 
did, and  in  giving  Mr.  Grandcourt  his  utmost 
value.  It  was  also  agreeable  to  divine  that  his 
exclusive  selection  of  her  to  dance  with,  from 
among  all  the  unmarried  ladies  present,  would 
attract  observation ;  though  she  studiously  avoided 
seeing  this,  and  at  the  end  of  the  quadrille  walked 
away  on  Grandcourt' s  arm  as  if  she  had  been  one 
of  the  shortest-sighted  instead  of  the  longest  and 
widest  sighted  of  mortals.  They  encountered  Miss 
Arrowpoint,  who  was  standing  with  Lady  Brack- 
enshaw  and  a  group  of  gentlemen.  The  heiress 
looked  at  Gwendolen  invitingly  and  said,  "  I  hope 
you  will  vote  with  us.  Miss  Harleth,  and  Mr. 
Grandcourt  too,  though  he  is  not  an  archer.  " 
Gwendolen   and   Grandcourt    paused   to    join    the 


i6o  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

group,  and  found  that  the  voting  turned  on  the 
project  of  a  picnic  archery  meeting  to  be  held  in 
Cardell  Chase,  where  the  evening  entertainment 
would  be  more  poetic  than  a  ball  under  chande- 
liers, —  a  feast  of  sunset  lights  along  the  glades  and 
through  the  branches  and  over  the  solemn  tree- 
tops. 

Gwendolen  thought  the  scheme  delightful,  — r 
equal  to  playing  Robin  Hood  and  Maid  Marian ; 
and  Mr.  Grandcourt,  when  appealed  to  a  second 
time,  said  it  was  a  thing  to  be  done ;  whereupon 
Mr.  Lush,  who  stood  behind  Lady  Brackenshaw's 
elbow,  drew  Gwendolen's  notice  by  saying,  with  a 
familiar  look  and  tone  to  Grandcourt,  "  Diplow 
would  be  a  good  place  for  the  meeting,  and  more 
convenient:  there's  a  fine  bit  between  the  oaks 
towards  the  north  gate.  " 

Impossible  to  look  more  unconscious  of  being 
addressed  than  Grandcourt ;  but  Gwendolen  took  a 
new  survey  of  the  speaker,  deciding,  first,  that  he 
must  be  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  the  tenant  of 
Diplow,  and  secondly,  that  she  would  never,  if 
she  could  help  it,  let  him  come  within  a  yard  of 
her.  She  was  subject  to  physical  antipathies  ;  and 
Mr.  Lush's  prominent  eyes,  fat  though  not  clumsy 
figure,  and  strong  black  gray-besprinkled  hair  of 
frizzy  thickness,  which,  with  the  rest  of  his  pros- 
perous person,  was  enviable  to  many,  created  one 
of  the  strongest  of  her  antipathies.  To  be  safe 
from  his  looking  at  her,  she  murmured  to  Grand- 
court,  "  I  should  like  to  continue  walking. " 

He  obeyed  immediately ;  but  when  they  were 
thus  away  from  any  audience,  he  spoke  no  word 
for  several  minutes,  and  she,  out  of  a  half-amused, 
half-serious  inclination  for  experiment,  would  not 


MEETING  STREAMS.  i6i 

speak  first.  They  turned  into  the  large  conserva- 
tory, beautifully  lit  up  with  Chinese  lamps.  The 
other  couples  there  were  at  a  distance  which  would 
not  have  interfered  with  any  dialogue,  but  still 
they  walked  in  silence  until  they  had  reached  the 
farther  end,  where  there  was  a  flush  of  pink  light, 
and  the  second  wide  opening  into  the  ball-room. 
Grandcourt,  when  they  had  half  turned  round, 
paused  and  said  languidly,  — 

"  Do  you  like  this  kind  of  thing  ?  " 

If  the  situation  had  been  described  to  Gwendo- 
len half  an  hour  before,  she  would  have  laughed 
heartily  at  it,  and  could  only  have  imagined  her- 
self returning  a  playful,  satirical  answer.  But  for 
some  mysterious  reason  —  it  was  a  mystery  of 
which  she  had  a  faint  wondering  consciousness  — 
she  dared  not  be  satirical :  she  had  begun  to  feel  a 
wand  over  her  that  made  her  afraid  of  offending 
Grandcourt. 

"  Yes, "  she  said  quietly,  without  considering 
what  "  kind  of  thing  "  was  meant,  —  whether  the 
flowers,  the  scents,  the  ball  in  general,  or  this 
episode  of  walking  with  Mr.  Grandcourt  in  par- 
ticular. And  they  returned  along  the  conservatory 
without  farther  interpretation.  She  then  proposed 
to  go  and  sit  down  in  her  old  place,  and  they 
walked  among  scattered  couples  preparing  for  the 
waltz  to  the  spot  where  Mrs.  Davilow  had  been 
seated  all  the  evening.  As  they  approached  it,  her 
seat  was  vacant,  but  she  was  coming  towards  it 
again,  and,  to  Gwendolen's  shuddering  annoyance, 
with  Mr.  Lush  at  her  elbow.  There  was  no  avoid- 
ing the  confrontation:  her  mamma  came  close  to 
her  before  they  had  reached  the  seats,  and,  after  a 
quiet  greeting  smile,  said  innocently,  "  Gwendolen 

VOL.  I.  — 11 


1 62  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

dear,  let  me  present  Mr.  Lush  to  you. '  Having 
just  made  the  acquaintance  of  this  personage,  as 
an  intimate  and  constant  companion  of  Mr.  Grand- 
court's,  Mrs.  Davilow  imagined  it  altogether  de- 
sirable that  her  daughter  also  should  make  the 
acquaintance. 

It  was  hardly  a  bow  that  Gwendolen  gave,  — 
rather,  it  was  the  slightest  forward  sweep  of  the 
head  away  from  the  physiognomy  that  inclined 
itself  towards  her,  and  she  immediately  moved 
towards  her  seat,  saying,  "  I  want  to  put  on  my 
burnous.  "  No  sooner  had  she  reached  it,  than  Mr. 
Lush  was  there,  and  had  the  burnous  in  his  hand : 
to  annoy  this  supercilious  young  lady,  he  would 
incur  the  offence  of  forestalling  Grandcourt;  and, 
holding  up  the  garment  close  to  Gwendolen,  he 
said,  "  Pray,  permit  me  1  "  But  she,  wheeling 
away  from  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  muddy  hound, 
glided  on  to  the  ottoman,  saying,  "  No,  thank 
you." 

A  man  who  forgave  this  would  have  much  Chris- 
tian feeling,  supposing  he  had  intended  to  be 
agreeable  to  the  young  lady ;  but  before  he  seized 
the  burnous  Mr.  Lush  had  ceased  to  have  that 
intention.  Grandcourt  quietly  took  the  drapery 
from  him ;  and  Mr.  Lush,  with  a  slight  bow,  moved 
away. 

"  You  had  perhaps  better  put  it  on, "  said  Mr. 
Grandcourt,  looking  down  on  her  without  change 
of  expression. 

"  Thanks ;  perhaps  it  would  be  wise, "  said  Gwen- 
dolen, rising  and  submitting  very  gracefully  to 
take  the  burnous  on  her  shoulders. 

After  that,  Mr.  Grandcourt  exchanged  a  few 
polite  speeches  with  Mrs.  Davilow,  and,  in  taking 


MEETING  STREAMS.  163 

leave,  asked  permission  to  call  at  Offendene  the 
next  day.  He  was  evidently  not  offended  by  the 
insult  directed  towards  his  friend.  Certainly, 
Gwendolen's  refusal  of  the  burnous  from  Mr.  Lush 
was  open  to  the  interpretation  that  she  wished  to 
receive  it  from  Mr.  Grandcourt.  But  she,  poor 
child,  had  had  no  design  on  this  action,  and  was 
simply  following  her  antipathy  and  inclination, 
confiding  in  them  as  she  did  in  the  more  reflective 
judgments  into  which  they  entered  as  sap  into 
leafage,  Gwendolen  had  no  sense  that  these  men 
were  dark  enigmas  to  her,  or  that  she  needed  any 
help  in  drawing  conclusions  about  them,  —  Mr. 
Grandcourt  at  least.  The  chief  question  was,  how 
far  his  character  and  ways  might  answer  her 
wishes ;  and  unless  she  were  satisfied  about  that, 
she  had  said  to  herself  that  she  would  not  accept 
his  offer. 

Could  there  be  a  slenderer,  more  insignificant 
thread  in  human  history  than  this  consciousness 
of  a  girl,  busy  with  her  small  inferences  of  the 
way  in  which  she  could  make  her  life  pleasant  ?  — - 
in  a  time,  too,  when  ideas  were  with  fresh  vigour 
making  armies  of  themselves,  and  the  universal 
kinship  was  declaring  itself  fiercely ;  when  women 
on  the  other  side  of  the  world  would  not  mourn 
for  the  husbands  and  sons  who  died  bravely  in  a 
common  cause,  and  men  stinted  of  bread  on  our 
side  of  the  world  heard  of  that  willing  loss  and 
were  patient :  a  time  when  the  soul  of  man  was 
waking  to  pulses  which  had  for  centuries  been 
beating  in  him  unfelt,  until  their  full  sum  made  a 
new  life  of  terror  or  of  joy. 


1 64  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

Wliat  in  the  midst  of  that  mighty  drama  are 
girls  and  their  blind  visions  ?  They  are  the  Yea 
or  Nay  of  that  good  for  which  men  are  enduring 
and  fighting.  In  these  delicate  vessels  is  borne 
onward  through  the  ages  the  treasure  of  human 
afiections. 


CHAPTEK  XII. 

O  gentlemeu,  the  time  of  life  is  short : 

To  spend  that  shortness  basely  were  too  long, 

If  life  did  ride  u^jon  a  dial's  point, 

Still  ending  at  the  arrival  of  an  hour, 

Shakespeare  :  Henry  IV. 

On  the  second  day  after  the  Archery  Meeting,  Mr. 
Henleigh  Mallinger  Grandcourt  was  at  his  break- 
fast-table with  Mr.  Lush.  Everything  around 
them  was  agreeable :  the  summer  air  through  the 
open  windows,  at  which  the  dogs  could  walk  in 
from  the  old  green  turf  on  the  lawn ;  the  soft, 
purplish  colouring  of  the  park  beyond,  stretching 
towards  a  mass  of  bordering  wood ;  the  still  life  in 
the  room,  which  seemed  the  stiller  for  its  sober 
antiquated  elegance,  as  if  it  kept  a  conscious, 
well-bred  silence  unlike  the  restlessness  of  vulgar 
furniture. 

Whether  the  gentlemen  were  agreeable  to  each 
other  was  less  evident.  Mr.  Grandcourt  had 
drawn  his  chair  aside  so  as  to  face  the  lawn,  and, 
with  his  left  leg  over  another  chair,  and  his  right 
elbow  on  the  table,  was  smoking  a  large  cigar, 
while  his  companion  was  still  eating.  The  dogs 
—  half-a-dozen  of  various  kinds  were  moving  lazily 
in  and  out,  or  taking  attitudes  of  brief  attention  — 
gave  a  vacillating  preference  first  to  one  gentle- 
man, then  to  the  other;  being  dogs  in  such  good 
circumstances  that  they  could  play  at  hunger,  and 
liked  to  be  served  with  delicacies  which  they  de- 
clined to  put  into  their  mouths ;  all  except  Fetch, 


i66  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

the  beautiful  liver-coloured  water-spaniel,  whicli 
sat  with  its  fore-paws  firmly  planted  and  its 
expressive  brown  face  turned  upward,  watching 
Grandcourt  with  unshaken  constancy.  He  held  in 
his  lap  a  tiny  Maltese  dog  with  a  tiny  silver  collar 
and  bell,  and  when  he  had  a  hand  unused  by  cigar 
or  coffee-cup,  it  rested  on  this  small  parcel  of  ani- 
mal warmth.  I  fear  that  Fetch  was  jealous,  and 
wounded  that  her  master  gave  her  no  word  or  look  ; 
at  last  it  seemed  that  she  could  bear  this  neglect 
no  longer,  and  she  gently  put  her  large  silky  paw 
on  her  master's  leg.  Grandcourt  looked  at  her 
with  unchanged  face  for  half  a  minute,  and  then 
took  the  trouble  to  lay  down  his  cigar  while  he 
lifted  the  unimpassioned  Fluff  close  to  his  chin 
and  gave  it  caressing  pats,  all  the  while  gravely 
watching  Fetch,  who,  poor  thing,  whimpered  in- 
terruptedly, as  if  trying  to  repress  that  sign  of 
discontent,  and  at  last  rested  her  head  beside  the 
appealing  paw,  looking  up  with  piteous  beseech- 
ing. So,  at  least,  a  lover  of  dogs  must  have  inter- 
preted Fetch,  and  Grandcourt  kept  so  many  dogs 
that  he  was  reputed  to  love  them ;  at  any  rate,  his 
impulse  to  act  just  in  this  way  started  from  such 
an  interpretation.  But  when  the  amusing  anguish 
burst  forth  in  a  howling  bark,  Grandcourt  pushed 
Fetch  down  without  speaking,  and,  depositing 
Fluff  carelessly  on  the  table  (where  his  black  nose 
predominated  over  a  salt-cellar),  began  to  look  to 
his  cigar,  and  found,  with  some  annoyance  against 
Fetch  as  the  cause,  that  the  brute  of  a  cigar  re- 
quired relighting.  Fetch,  having  begun  to  wail, 
found,  like  others  of  her  sex,  that  it  was  not  easy 
to  leave  off;  indeed,  the  second  howl  was  a  louder 
one,  and  the  third  was  like  unto  it. 


MEETING  STREAMS  167 

•'  Turn  out  that  brute,  will  you  ?  "  said  Grand- 
court  to  Lush,  without  raising  his  voice  or  looking 
at  him,  —  as  if  he  counted  on  attention  to  the 
smallest  sign. 

And  Lush  immediately  rose,  lifted  Fetch,  though 
she  was  rather  heavy  and  he  was  not  fond  of  stoop- 
ing, and  carried  her  out,  disposing  of  her  in  some 
way  that  took  him  a  couple  of  minutes  before  he 
returned-  He  then  lit  a  cigar,  placed  himself  at 
an  angle  where  he  could  see  Grandcourt's  face 
without  turning,   and  presently  said,  — 

"  Shall  you  ride  or  drive  to  Quetcham  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  going  to  Quetcham.  " 

"  You  did  not  go  yesterday.  " 

Grandcourt  smoked  in  silence  for  half  a  minute, 
and  then  said,  — 

"  I  suppose  you  sent  my  card  and  inquiries. " 

"  I  went  myself  at  four,  and  said  you  were  sure 
to  be  there  shortly.  They  would  suppose  some 
accident  prevented  you  from  fulfilling  the  inten- 
tion.     Especially  if  you  go  to-day. " 

Silence  for  a  couple  of  minutes  Then  Grand- 
court  said,  "  What  men  are  invited  here  with  their 
wives  ? " 

Lush  drew  out  a  note-book.  "  The  Captain  and 
Mrs.  Torrington  come  next  week.  Then  there  are 
Mr.  Hollis  and  Lady  Flora,  and  the  Cushats,  and 
the  Gogoffs." 

"  Eather  a  ragged  lot, "  remarked  Grandcourt, 
after  a  while.  "  Why  did  you  ask  the  Gogoffs  ? 
When  you  write  invitations  in  my  name,  be  good 
enough  to  give  me  a  list,  instead  of  bringing  down 
a  giantess  on  me  without  my  knowledge.  She 
spoils  the  look  of  the  room. " 


i68  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  You  invited  the  Gogoffs  yourself,  when  you 
met  them  in  Paris. " 

"  What  has  my  meeting  them  in  Paris  to  do  with 
it  ?     I  told  you  to  give  me  a  list.  " 

Grandcourt,  like  many  others,  had  two  remark- 
ably different  voices.  Hitherto  we  have  heard 
hiin  speaking  in  a  superficial  interrupted  drawl 
suggestive  chiefly  of  languor  and  ennui.  But  this 
last  brief  speech  was  uttered  in  subdued,  inward, 
yet  distinct  tones,  which  Lush  had  long  been  used 
to  recognize  as  the  expression  of  a  peremptory 
will. 

"  Are  there  any  other  couples  you  would  like  to 
invite  ? " 

"  Yes ;  think  of  some  decent  people,  with  a 
daughter  or  two.  And  one  of  your  damned  musi- 
cians.     But  not  a  comic  fellow. " 

"  I  wonder  if  Klesmer  would  consent  to  come  to 
us  when  he  leaves  Quetcham.  Nothing  but  first- 
rate  music  will  go  down  with  Miss  Arrowpoint " 

Lush  spoke  carelessly,  but  he  was  really  seizing 
an  opportunity  and  fixing  an  observant  look  on 
Grandcourt,  who  now  for  the  first  time  turned  his 
eyes  towards  his  companion,  but  slowly  and  with- 
out speaking  until  he  had  given  two  long  luxurious 
puffs,  when  he  said,  perhaps  in  a  lower  tone  than 
ever,  but  with  a  perceptible  edge  of  contempt,  — 

"  What  in  the  name  of  nonsense  have  I  to  do 
with  Miss  Arrowpoint  and  her  music  ? " 

"  Well,  something, "  said  Lush,  jocosely.  "  You 
need  not  give  yourself  much  trouble,  perhaps.  But 
some  forms  must  be  gone  through  before  a  man  can 
marry  a  million. " 

"  Very  likely.  But  I  am  not  going  to  marry  a 
million. " 


MEETING  STREAMS.  169 

"  That 's  a  pity,  —  to  fling  away  an  opportunity 
of  this  sort,   and  knock  down  your  own  plans.  " 

"  Your  plans,  I  suppose  you  mean.  " 

"  You  have  some  debts,  you  know,  and  things 
may  turn  out  inconveniently  after  all.  The  heir- 
ship is  not  absolutely  certaia  " 

Grandcourt  did  not  answer,  and  Lush  went  on. 

"  It  really  is  a  fine  opportunity.  The  father  and 
mother  ask  for  nothing  better,  I  can  see,  and  the 
daughter's  looks  and  manners  require  no  allow- 
ances, any  more  than  if  she  hadn't  a  sixpence. 
She  is  not  beautiful,  but  equal  to  carrying  any 
rank.  And  she  is  not  likely  to  refuse  such  pros- 
pects as  you  can  offer  her. " 

"  Perhaps  not. " 

"  The  father  and  mother  would  let  you  do  any- 
thing you  liked  with  them. " 

"  But  I  should  not  like  to  do  anything  with 
them. " 

Here  it  was  Lush  who  made  a  little  pause  before 
speaking  again,  and  then  he  said  in  a  deep  voice 
of  remonstrance,  "  Good  God,  Grandcourt !  after 
your  experience,  will  you  let  a  whim  interfere  with 
your  comfortable  settlement  in  life  ?  " 

"  Spare  your  oratory.  I  know  what  I  am  going 
to  do." 

"  What  ? "  Lush  put  down  his  cigar  and  thrust 
his  hands  into  his  side  pockets,  as  if  he  had  to 
face  something  exasperating,  but  meant  to  keep 
his  temper. 

"  I  am  going  to  marry  the  other  girl. " 

"  Have  you  fallen  in  love  ? "  This  question 
carried  a  strong  sneer. 

"  I  am  going  to  marry  her.  " 

"  You  have  made  her  an  offer  already,  then  ? " 


t7o  DANIEL  DEllONDA. 

"  No. ' 

"  She  is  a  young  lady  with  a  will  of  her  own,  1 
fancy.  Extremely  well  fitted  to  make  a  rumpus. 
She  would  know  what  she  liked. " 

"She  doesn't  like  you,"  said  Grandcourt,  with 
the  ghost  of  a  smila 

"  Perfectly  true, "  said  Lush,  adding  again  in  a 
markedly  sneering  tone,  "  However,  if  you  and 
she  are  devoted  to  each  other,  that  will  be 
enough. " 

Grandcourt  took  no  notice  of  this  speech,  but 
sipped  his  coffee,  rose,  and  strolled  out  on  the 
lawn,  all  the  dogs  following  him. 

Lush  glanced  after  him  a  moment,  then  resumed 
his  cigar  and  lit  it,  but  smoked  slowly,  consult- 
ing his  beard  with  inspecting  eyes  and  fingers, 
till  he  finally  stroked  it  with  an  air  of  having 
arrived  at  some  conclusion,  and  said,  in  a  subdued 
voice,  — 

"  Check,  old  boy  1  " 

Lush,  being  a  man  of  some  ability,  had  not 
known  Grandcourt  for  fifteen  years  without  learn- 
ing what  sort  of  measures  were  useless  with  him, 
though  what  sort  might  be  useful  remained  often 
dubious.  In  the  beginning  of  his  career  he  held  a 
fellowship,  and  was  near  taking  orders  for  the  sake 
of  a  college  living ;  but  not  being  fond  of  that  pros- 
pect, accepted  instead  the  office  of  travelling  com- 
panion to  a  marquess,  and  afterwards  to  young 
Grandcourt,  who  had  lost  his  father  early,  and 
who  found  Lush  so  convenient  that  he  had  allowed 
him  to  become  prime  minister  in  all  his  more  per- 
sonal affairs.  The  habit  of  fifteen  years  had  made 
Grandcourt  more  and  more  in  need  of  Lush's  handi- 
ness,  and  Lush  more  and  more  in  need  of  the  lazy 


MEETING  STREAMS.  171 

luxury  to  which  his  transactions  on  behalf  of 
Grandcourt  made  no  interruption  worth  reckoning. 
I  cannot  say  that  the  same  lengthened  habit  had 
intensified  Grandcourt's  want  of  respect  for  his 
companion,  since  that  want  had  been  absolute  from 
the  beginning,  but  it  had  confirmed  his  sense  that 
he  might  kick  Lush  if  he  chose,  —  only  he  never 
did  choose  to  kick  any  animal,  because  the  act  of 
kicking  is  a  compromising  attitude,  and  a  gentle- 
man's dogs  should  be  kicked  for  him.  He  only 
said  things  which  might  have  exposed  himself  to 
be  kicked  if  his  confidant  had  been  a  man  of  inde- 
pendent spirit.  But  what  son  of  a  vicar  who  has 
stinted  his  wife  and  daughters  of  calico  in  order  to 
send  his  male  offspring  to  Oxford,  can  keep  an 
independent  spirit  when  he  is  bent  on  dining  with 
high  discrimination,  riding  good  horses,  living 
generally  in  the  most  luxuriant  honey-blossomed 
clover,  —  and  all  without  working  ?  Mr.  Lush  had 
passed  for  a  scholar  once,  and  had  still  a  sense  of 
scholarship  when  he  was  not  trying  to  remember 
much  of  it;  but  the  bachelors'  and  other  arts 
which  soften  manners  are  a  time-honoured  prepa- 
ration for  sinecures;  and  Lush's  present  comfort- 
able provision  was  as  good  as  a  sinecure  in  not 
requiring  more  than  the  odour  of  departed  learning. 
He  was  not  unconscious  of  being  held  kickable, 
but  he  preferred  counting  that  estimate  among  the 
peculiarities  of  Grandcourt's  character,  which  made 
one  of  his  incalculable  moods  or  judgments  as  good 
as  another.  Since  in  his  own  opinion  he  had 
never  done  a  bad  action,  it  did  not  seem  necessary 
to  consider  whether  he  should  be  likely  to  commit 
one  if  his  love  of  ease  required  it.  Lush's  love  of 
ease  was  well  satisfied  at  present,  and  if  his  pud- 


172  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

dings  were  rolled  towards  him   in   the   dust,   he 
took  the  inside  bits  and  found  them  relishing. 

This  morning,  for  example,  though  he  had  en- 
countered more  annoyance  than  usual,  he  went  to 
his  private  sitting-room  and  played  a  good  hour 
on  the  violoncello. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

"Philistia,  be  thou  glad  of  me!" 

Grandcourt  having  made  up  his  mind  to  marry 
Miss  Harleth  showed  a  power  of  adapting  means  to 
ends.  During  the  next  fortnight  there  was  hardly 
a  day  on  which  by  some  arrangement  or  other  he 
did  not  see  her,  or  prove  by  emphatic  attentions 
that  vshe  occupied  his  thoughts.  His  cousin  Mrs. 
Torrington  was  now  doing  the  honours  of  his 
house,  so  that  Mrs.  Davilow  and  Gwendolen  could 
be  invited  to  a  large  party  at  Diplow  in  which 
there  were  many  witnesses  how  the  host  distin- 
guished the  dowerless  beauty,  and  showed  no 
solicitude  about  the  heiress.  The  world  —  I  mean 
Mr.  Gascoigne  and  all  the  families  worth  speaking 
of  within  visiting  distance  of  Pennicote  —  felt  an 
assurance  on  the  subject  which  in  the  Eector's 
mind  converted  itself  into  a  resolution  to  do  his 
duty  by  his  niece  and  see  that  the  settlements 
were  adequate.  Indeed  the  wonder  to  him  and 
Mrs.  Davilow  was  that  the  offer  for  which  so  many 
suitable  occasions  presented  themselves  had  not 
been  already  made ;  and  in  this  wonder  Grandcourt 
himself  was  not  without  a  share.  "When  he  had 
told  his  resolution  to  Lush,  he  had  thought  that 
the  affair  would  be  concluded  more  quickly,  and 
to  his  own  surprise  he  had  repeatedly  promised 
himself  in  a  morning  that  he  would  to-day  give 


174  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

Gwendolen  the  opportunity  of  accepting  him,  and 
had  found  in  the  evening  that  the  necessary  for- 
mality was  still  unaccomplished.  This  remarkable 
fact  served  to  heighten  his  determination  on  an- 
other day.  He  had  never  admitted  to  himself  that 
Gwendolen  might  refuse  him,  but  —  heaven  help 
us  all !  —  we  are  often  unable  to  act  on  our  certain- 
ties; our  objection  to  a  contrary  issue  (were  it 
possible)  is  so  strong  that  it  rises  like  a  spectral 
illusion  between  us  and  our  certainty :  we  are 
rationally  sure  that  the  blind-worm  cannot  bite 
us  mortally,  but  it  would  be  so  intolerable  to  be 
bitten,  and  the  creature  has  a  biting  look,  —  we 
decline  to  handle  it. 

He  had  asked  leave  to  have  a  beautiful  horse  of 
his  brought  for  Gwendolen  to  ride.  Mrs,  Davilow 
was  to  accompany  her  in  the  carriage,  and  they 
were  to  go  to  Diplow  to  lunch,  Grandcourt  con- 
ducting them.  It  was  a  fine  mid-harvest  time, 
not  too  warm  for  a  noonday  ride  of  five  miles  to  be 
delightful :  the  poppies  glowed  on  the  borders  of 
the  fields,  there  was  enough  breeze  to  move  gently 
like  a  social  spirit  among  the  ears  of  uncut  com, 
and  to  wing  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  across  the  soft 
gray  downs ;  here  the  sheaves  were  standing,  there 
the  horses  were  straining  their  muscles  under  the 
last  load  from  a  wide  space  of  stubble,  but  every- 
where the  green  pastures  made  a  broader  setting 
for  the  cornfields,  and  the  cattle  took  their  rest 
under  wide  branches.  The  road  lay  through  a  bit 
of  country  where  the  dairy-farms  looked  much  as 
they  did  in  the  days  of  our  forefathers,  —  where 
peace  and  permanence  seemed  to  find  a  home  away 
from  the  busy  change  that  sent  the  railway  train 
flying  in  the  distance. 


MEETING  STREAMS.  175 

But  the  spirit  of  peace  and  permanence  did  not 
,  penetrate  poor  Mrs.  Davilow's  mind  so  as  to  over- 
come her  habit  of  uneasy  foreboding.  Gwendolen 
and  Grandcourt  cantering  in  front  of  her,  and  then 
slackening  their  pace  to  a  conversational  walk  till 
the  carriage  came  up  with  them  again,  made  a 
gratifying  sight;  but  it  served  chiefly  to  keep  up 
the  conflict  of  hopes  and  fears  about  her  daughter's 
lot.  Here  was  an  irresistible  opportunity  for  a 
lover  to  speak  and  put  an  end  to  all  uncertainties, 
and  Mrs.  Davilow  could  only  hope  with  trembling 
that  Gwendolen's  decision  would  be  favourable. 
Certainly  if  Eex's  love  had  been  repugnant  to  her, 
Mr.  Grandcourt  had  the  advantage  of  being  in 
complete  contrast  with  Eex ;  and  that  he  had  pro- 
duced some  quite  novel  impression  on  her  seemed 
evident  in  her  marked  abstinence  from  satirical 
observations,  nay,  her  total  silence  about  liis  char- 
acteristics, a  silence  which  Mrs.  Davilow  did  not 
dare  to  break.  "  Is  he  a  man  she  would  be  happy 
with  ?  "  —  was  a  question  that  inevitably  arose 
in  the  mother's  mind.  "Well,  perhaps  as  happy 
as  she  would  be  with  any  one  else  —  or  as  most 
other  women  are "  —  was  the  answer  with  which 
she  tried  to  quiet  herself ;  for  she  could  not  ima- 
gine Gwendolen  under  the  influence  of  any  feeling 
which  would  make  her  satisfied  in  what  we  tradi- 
tionally call  "  mean  circumstances." 

Grandcourt's  own  thought  was  looking  in  the 
same  direction :  he  wanted  to  have  done  with  the 
uncertainty  that  belonged  to  his  not  having  spoken. 
As  to  any  further  uncertainty  —  well,  it  was  some- 
thing without  any  reasonable  basis,  some  quality 
in  the  air  which  acted  as  an  irritant  to  his  wishes. 

Gwendolen  enjoyed  the  riding,  but  her  pleasure 


176  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

did  not  break  forth  in  girlish  unpremeditated  chat 
and  laughter  as  it  did  on  that  morning  with  Rex. 
She  spoke  a  little,  and  even  laughed,  but  with  a 
lightness  as  of  a  far-off  echo :  for  her  too  there  was 
some  peculiar  quality  in  the  air,  — not,  she  was  sure, 
any  subjugation  of  her  will  by  Mr.  Grandcourt,  and 
the  splendid  prospects  he  meant  to  offer  her;  for 
Gwendolen  desired  every  one,  that  dignified  gen- 
tleman himself  included,  to  understand  that  she 
was  going  to  do  just  as  she  liked,  and  that  they 
had  better  not  calculate  on  her  pleasing  them.  If 
she  chose  to  take  tliis  husband,  she  would  have 
him  know  that  she  was  not  going  to  renounce  her 
freedom,  or,  according  to  her  favourite  formula, 
"  not  going  to  do  as  other  women  did. " 

Grandcourt 's  speeches  this  morning  were,  as 
usual,  all  of  that  brief  sort  which  never  fails  to 
make  a  conversational  figure  when  the  speaker  is 
held  important  in  his  circle.  Stopping  so  soon, 
they  give  signs  of  a  suppressed  and  formidable 
ability  to  say  more,  and  have  also  the  meritorious 
quality  of  allowing  lengthiness  to  others. 

"How  do  you  like  Criterion's  paces?"  he  said, 
after  they  had  entered  the  park  and  were  slacken- 
ing from  a  canter  to  a  walk. 

"  He  is  delightful  to  ride.  I  should  like  to  have 
a  leap  with  him,  if  it  would  not  frighten  mamma. 
There  was  a  good  wide  channel  we  passed  five 
minutes  ago.  I  should  like  to  have  a  gallop  back 
and  take  it. " 

"  Pray  do.      We  can  take  it  together. " 

"  No,  thanks.  Mamma  is  so  timid, —  if  she  saw 
me  it  might  make  her  ill. " 

"  Let  me  go  and  explain.  Criterion  would  take 
it  without  fail. " 


MEETING  STREAMS.  177 

"  No  —  indeed  —  you  are  very  kind  —  but  it 
would  alarm  her  too  much.  I  dare  take  any  leap 
when  she  is  not  by;  but  I  do  it  and  don't  tell  her 
about  it. " 

"  We  can  let  the  carriage  pass,  and  then  set  off.  " 

"No,  no,  pray  don't  think  of  it  any  more;  I 
spoke  quite  randomly,"  said  Gwendolen;  she  be- 
gan to  feel  a  new  objection  to  carrying  out  her 
own  proposition. 

"  But  Mrs.  Davilow  knows  I  shall  take  care 
of  you.  " 

"  Yes,  but  she  would  think  of  you  as  having  to 
take  care  of  my  broken  neck. " 

There  was  a  considerable  pause  before  Grand- 
court  said,  looking  towards  her,  "  I  should  like  to 
have  the  right  always  to  take  care  of  you. " 

Gwendolen  did  not  turn  her  eyes  on  him :  it 
seemed  to  her  a  long  while  that  she  was  first  blush- 
ing, and  then  turning  pale,  but  to  Grandcourt's 
rate  of  judgment  she  answered  soon  enough,  with 
the  lightest  flute-tone  and  a  careless  movement  of 
the  head,  "  Oh,  I  am  not  sure  that  I  want  to  be 
taken  care  of :  if  I  chose  to  risk  breaking  my 
neck,   I  should  like  to  be  at  liberty  to  do  it.  " 

She  checked  her  horse  as  she  spoke,  and  turned 
in  her  saddle,  looking  towards  the  advancing  car- 
riage. Her  eyes  swept  across  Grandcourt  as  she 
made  this  movement,  but  there  was  no  language  in 
them  to  correct  the  carelessness  of  her  reply.  At 
that  very  moment  she  was  aware  that  she  was  risk- 
ing something,  —  not  her  neck,  but  the  possibility 
of  finally  checking  Grandcourt's  advances,  and  she 
did  not  feel  contented  with  the  possibility. 

"  Damn  her !  "  thought  Grandcourt,  as  he  too 
checked  his  horse.     He  was  not  a  wordy  thinker  ^ 

VOL.  1.  — 12 


178  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

and  this  explosive  phrase  stood  for  mixed  impres- 
sions which  eloquent  interpreters  might  have  ex- 
panded into  some  sentences  full  of  an  irritated 
sense  that  he  was  being  mystified,  and  a  determi- 
nation that  this  girl  should  not  make  a  fool  of 
him.  Did  she  want  him  to  throw  himself  at  her 
feet  and  declare  that  he  was  dying  for  her?  It 
was  not  by  that  gate  that  she  would  enter  on  the 
privileges  he  could  give  her.  Or  did  she  expect 
him  to  write  his  proposals?  Equally  a  delusion. 
He  would  not  make  his  offer  in  any  way  that  could 
place  him  definitely  in  the  position  of  being  re- 
jected. But  as  to  her  accepting  him,  she  had  done 
it  already  in  accepting  his  marked  attentions ;  and 
anything  which  happened  to  break  them  off  would 
be  understood  to  her  disadvantage.  She  was  merely 
coquetting,  then  ? 

However,  the  carriage  came  up,  and  no  further 
tete-d-tete  could  well  occur  before  their  arrival  at 
the  house,  where  there  was  abundant  company,  to 
whom  Gwendolen,  clad  in  riding-dress  with  her 
hat  laid  aside,  clad  also  in  the  repute  of  being 
chosen  by  Mr.  Grandcourt,  was  naturally  a  centre 
of  observation ;  and  since  the  objectionable  Mr. 
Lush  was  not  there  to  look  at  her,  this  stimulus 
of  admiring  attention  heightened  her  spirits,  and 
dispersed,  for  the  time,  the  uneasy  consciousness 
of  divided  impulses  which  threatened  her  with 
repentance  of  her  own  acts.  Whether  Grandcourt 
had  been  offended  or  not  there  was  no  judging : 
his  manners  were  unchanged,  but  Gwendolen's 
acuteuess  had  not  gone  deeper  than  to  discern  that 
his  manners  were  no  clew  for  her,  and  because 
these  were  unchanged  she  was  not  the  less  afraid 
of  him. 


MEETING  STREAMS.  179 

She  had  not  been  at  Diplow  before  except  to 
dine;  and  since  certain  points  of  view  from  the 
windows  and  the  garden  were  worth  showing,  Lady 
Flora  Hollis  proposed  after  luncheon,  when  some 
of  the  guests  had  dispersed,  and  the  sun  was  slop- 
ing towards  four  o'clock,  that  the  remaining  party 
should  make  a  little  exploration.  Here  came  fre- 
quent opportunities  when  Grandcourt  might  have 
retained  Gwendolen  apart,  and  have  spoken  to  her 
unheard.  But  no!  He  indeed  spoke  to  no  one 
else,  but  what  he  said  was  nothing  more  eager  or 
intimate  than  it  had  been  in  their  first  interview. 
He  looked  at  her  not  less  than  usual ;  and  some  of 
her  defiant  spirit  having  come  back,  she  looked  full 
at  him  in  return,  not  caring  —  rather  preferring 
—  that  his  eyes  had  no  expression  in  them. 

But  at  last  it  seemed  as  if  he  entertained  some 
contrivance.  After  they  had  nearly  made  the  tour 
of  the  grounds,  the  whole  party  paused  by  the  pool 
to  be  amused  with  Fetch's  accomplishment  of 
bringing  a  water-lily  to  the  bank  like  Cowper's 
spaniel  Beau,  and  having  been  disappointed  in  his 
first  attempt  insisted  on  his  trying  again. 

Here  Grandcourt,  who  stood  with  Gwendolen 
outside  the  group,  turned  deliberately,  and  fixing 
his  eyes  on  a  knoll  planted  with  American  shrubs, 
and  having  a  winding  path  up  it,  said  languidly, — 

"  This  is  a  bore.     Shall  we  go  up  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly  —  since  we  are  exploring,  "  said 
Gwendolen.  She  was  rather  pleased,  and  yet 
afraid. 

The  path  was  too  narrow  for  him  to  offer  his 
arm,  and  they  walked  up  in  silence.  When  they 
were  on  the  bit  of  platform  at  the  summit,  Grand- 
court  said, — 


i8o  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  seen  here :  the  thing 
was  not  worth  climbing.  " 

How  was  it  that  Gwendolen  did  not  laugh  ?  She 
was  perfectly  silent,  holding  up  the  folds  of  her 
robe  like  a  statue,  and  giving  a  harder  grasp  to  the 
handle  of  her  whip,  which  she  had  snatched  up 
automatically  with  her  hat  when  they  had  first  set 
off. 

"  What  sort  of  place  do  you  like  ? "  said 
Grandcourt. 

"  Different  places  are  agreeable  in  their  way. 
On  the  whole,  I  think  I  prefer  places  that  are  open 
and  cheerful.     I  am  not  fond  of  anything  sombre. " 

"  Your  place  at  Offendene  is  too  sombre.  " 

"  It  is,  rather.  " 

"  You  will  not  remain  there  long,  I  hope. " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  think  so.  Mamma  likes  to  be  near 
her  sister. " 

Silence  for  a  short  space. 

"  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  you  will  always 
live  there,  though  Mrs.  Davilow  may. " 

"  I  don't  know.  We  women  can't  go  in  search 
of  adventures,  —  to  find  out  the  Northwest  Passage 
or  the  source  of  the  Nile,  or  to  hunt  tigers  in  the 
East  We  must  stay  where  we  grow,  or  where  the 
gardeners  like  to  transplant  us.  We  are  brought 
up  like  the  flowers,  to  look  as  pretty  as  we  can, 
and  be  dull  without  complaining.  That  is  my 
notion  about  the  plants :  they  are  often  bored,  and 
that  is  the  reason  why  some  of  them  have  got 
poisonous.  What  do  you  think  ? "  Gwendolen 
had  run  on  rather  nervously,  lightly  whipping 
the  rhododendron  bush  in  front  of  her. 

"I  quite  agree.  Most  things  are  bores, '  said 
Grandcourt,  his  mind  having  been  pushed  into  an 


MEETING  STREAMS.  i8i 

easy  current,  away  from  its  intended  track. 
But  after  a  moment's  pause  he  continued  in  his 
broken,  refined  drawl,  — 

"  But  a  woman  can  be  married.  * 

"  Some  women  can. " 

"  You  certainly,  unless  you  are  obstinately 
cruel. " 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  am  not  both  cruel  and 
obstinate. "  Here  Gwendolen  suddenly  turned  her 
head  and  looked  full  at  Grandcourt,  whose  eyes 
she  had  felt  to  be  upon  her  throughout  their  con- 
versation. She  was  wondering  what  the  effect  of 
looking  at  him  would  be  on  herself  rather  than  on 
him. 

He  stood  perfectly  still,  half  a  yard  or  more 
away  from  her ;  and  it  flashed  through  her  thought 
that  a  sort  of  lotos-eater's  stupor  had  begun  in 
him  and  was  taking  possession  of  her.  Then  he 
said,  — 

"  Are  you  as  uncertain  about  yourself  as  you 
make  others  about  you  ?  " 

"I  am  quite  uncertain  about  myself;  I  don't 
know  how  uncertain  others  may  be.  " 

"  And  you  wish  them  to  understand  that  you 
don't  care  ? "  said  Grandcourt,  with  a  touch  of  new 
hardness  in  his  tone, 

"I  did  not  say  that, "  Gwendolen  replied,  hesi- 
tatingly, and  turning  her  eyes  away  whipped  the 
rhododendron  bush  again.  She  wished  she  were  on 
horseback  that  she  might  set  off  on  a  canter.  It 
was  impossible  to  set  off  running  down  the  knoll. 

"  You  do  care,  then, "  said  Grandcourt,  not  more 
quickly,  but  with  a  softened  drawl. 

"  Ha !  my  whip ! "  said  Gwendolen,  in  a  little 
scream  of  distress.    She  had  let  it  go  —  what  could 


1 82  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

be  more  natural  in  a  slight  agitation?  —  and — but 
this  seemed  less  natural  in  a  gold-handled  whip 
which  had  been  left  altogether  to  itself  —  it  had 
gone  with  some  force  over  the  immediate  shrubs, 
and  had  lodged  itself  in  the  branches  of  an  azalea 
half-way  down  the  knoll.  She  could  run  down 
now,  laughing  prettily,  and  Grandcourt  was  obliged 
to  follow ;  but  she  was  beforehand  with  him  in 
rescuing  the  whip,  and  continued  on  her  way  to 
the  level  ground,  when  she  paused  and  looked  at 
Grandcourt  with  an  exasperating  brightness  in  her 
glance  and  a  heightened  colour,  as  if  she  had  car- 
ried a  triumph ;  and  these  indications  were  still 
noticeable  to  Mrs.  Davilow  when  Gwendolen  and 
Grandcourt  joined  the  rest  of  the  party. 

"  It  is  all  coquetting, "  thought  Grandcourt ; 
"  the  next  time  I  beckon  she  will  come  down. ' 

It  seemed  to  him  likely  that  this  final  beckon- 
ing might  happen  the  very  next  day,  when  there 
was  to  be  a  picnic  archery  meeting  in  Cardell 
Chase,  according  to  the  plan  projected  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  ball. 

Even  in  Gwendolen's  mind  that  result  was  one 
of  two  likelihoods  that  presented  themselves  alter- 
nately, one  of  two  decisions  towards  which  she 
was  being  precipitated,  as  if  they  were  two  sides 
of  a  boundary-line,  and  she  did  not  know  on  which 
she  should  fall.  This  subjection  to  a  possible  self,  a 
self  not  to  be  absolutely  predicted  about,  caused  her 
some  astonishment  and  terror:  her  favourite  key 
of  life  —  doing  as  she  liked  —  seemed  to  fail  her, 
and  she  could  not  foresee  what  at  a  given  moment 
she  might  like  to  do.  The  prospect  of  marrying 
Grandcourt  really  seemed  more  attractive  to  her 
than  she  had  believed  beforehand  that  any  mar- 


MEETING  STREAMS.  183 

riage  could  be :  the  dignities,  the  luxuries,  the 
power  of  doing  a  great  deal  of  what  she  liked  to 
do,  which  had  now  come  close  to  her,  and  within 
her  choice  to  secure  or  to  lose,  took  hold  of  her 
nature  as  if  it  had  been  the  strong  odour  of  what 
she  had  only  imagined  and  longed  for  before.  And 
Grandcourt  himself  ?  He  seemed  as  little  of  a  flaw 
in  his  fortunes  as  a  lover  and  husband  could  possi- 
bly be.  Gwendolen  wished  to  mount  the  chariot 
and  drive  the  plunging  horses  herself,  with  a 
spouse  by  her  side  who  would  fold  his  arms  and 
give  her  his  countenance  without  looking  ridicu- 
lous. Certainly,  with  all  her  perspicacity,  and 
all  the  reading  which  seemed  to  her  mamma  dan- 
gerously instructive,  her  judgment  was  consciously 
a  little  at  fault  before  Grandcourt.  He  was  ador- 
ably quiet  and  free  from  absurdities,  — he  would  be 
a  husband  to  suit  with  the  best  appearance  a  woman 
could  make.  But  what  else  was  he  ?  He  had 
been  everywhere,  and  seen  everything.  That  was 
desirable,  and  especially  gratifying  as  a  preamble 
to  his  supreme  preference  for  Gwendolen  Harleth. 
He  did  not  appear  to  enjoy  anything  much.  That 
was  not  necessary ;  and  the  less  he  had  of  particu- 
lar tastes  or  desires,  the  more  freedom  his  wife 
was  likely  to  have  in  following  hers.  Gwendolen 
conceived  that  after  marriage  she  would  most  prob- 
ably be  able  to  manage  him  thoroughly. 

How  was  it  that  he  caused  her  unusual  con- 
straint now  ?  —  that  she  was  less  daring  and  play- 
ful in  her  talk  with  him  than  with  any  other 
admirer  she  had  known  ?  That  absence  of  demon- 
strativeness  which  she  was  glad  of,  acted  as  a 
charm  in  more  senses  than  one,  and  was  slightly 
benumbing.      Grandcourt  after  all  was  formidable, 


1 84  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

—  a  handsome  lizard  of  a  hitherto  unknown  spe- 
cies, not  of  the  lively,  darting  kind.  But  Gwen- 
dolen knew  hardly  anything  about  lizards,  and 
ignorance  gives  one  a  large  range  of  probabilities. 
This  splendid  specimen  was  probably  gentle,  suit- 
able as  a  boudoir  pet :  what  may  not  a  lizard  be, 
if  you  know  nothing  to  the  contrary  ?  Her  ac- 
quaintance with  Grandcourt  was  such  that  no 
accomplishment  suddenly  revealed  in  him  would 
have  surprised  her.  And  he  was  so  little  sugges- 
tive of  drama,  that  it  hardly  occurred  to  her  to 
think  with  any  detail  how  his  life  of  thirty-six 
years  had  been  passed :  in  general,  she  imagined 
him  always  cold  and  dignified,  not  likely  ever  to 
have  committed  himself.  He  had  hunted  the 
tiger,  —  had  he  ever  been  in  love  or  made  love  ? 
The  one  experience  and  the  other  seemed  alike 
remote  in  Gwendolen's  faocy  from  the  Mr.  Grand- 
court  who  had  come  to  Diplow  in  order  apparently 
to  make  a  chief  epoch  in  her  destiny,  —  perhaps  by 
introducing  her  to  that  state  of  marriage  which 
she  had  resolved  to  make  a  state  of  greater  free- 
dom than  her  girlhood.  And  on  the  whole  she 
wished  to  marry  him ;  he  suited  her  purpose ;  her 
prevailing,  deliberate  intention  was  to  accept  him. 

But  was  she  going  to  fulfil  her  deliberate  inten- 
tion ?  She  began  to  be  afraid  of  herself,  and  to 
find  out  a  certain  difficulty  in  doing  as  she  liked. 
Already  her  assertion  of  independence  in  evading 
his  advances  had  been  carried  farther  than  was 
necessary,  and  she  was  thinking  with  some  anxiety 
what  she  might  do  on  the  next  occasion. 

Seated  according  to  her  habit  with  her  back  to 
the  horses  on  their  drive  homewards,  she  was 
completely  under  the  observation  of  her  mamma, 


MEETING  STREAMS.  185 

who  took  the  excitement  and  changefulness  in  the 
expression  of  her  eyes,  her  unwonted  absence  of 
mind  and  total  silence,  as  unmistakable  signs  that 
something  unprecedented  had  occurred  between 
her  and  Grandcourt.  Mrs.  Davilow's  uneasiness 
determined  her  to  risk  some  speech  on  the  subject ; 
the  Gascoignes  were  to  dine  at  Offendene,  and  in 
what  had  occurred  this  morning  there  might  be 
some  reason  for  consulting  the  Rector ;  not  that  she 
expected  him  any  more  than  herself  to  influence 
Gwendolen,  but  that  her  anxious  mind  wanted  to 
be  disburthened. 

"  Something  has  happened,  dear  ?  "  she  began, 
in  a  tender  tone  of  question. 

Gwendolen  looked  round,  and  seeming  to  be 
roused  to  the  consciousness  of  her  physical  self, 
took  off  her  gloves  and  then  her  hat,  that  the  soft 
breeze  might  blow  on  her  head.  They  were  in  a 
retired  bit  of  the  road,  where  the  long  afternoon 
shadows  from  the  bordering  trees  fell  across  it, 
and  no  observers  were  within  sight.  Her  eyes 
continued  to  meet  her  mother's,  but  she  did  not 
speak. 

"  Mr.  Grandcourt  has  been  saying  something  ? 
—  Tell  me,  dear. "  The  last  words  were  uttered 
beseechingly. 

"  What  am  I  to  tell  you,  mamma  ?  "  was  the 
perverse  answer. 

"  I  am  sure  something  has  agitated  you.  You 
ought  to  confide  in  me,  Gwen.  You  ought  not  to 
leave  me  in  doubt  and  anxiety. "  Mrs.  Davilow's 
eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Mamma  dear,  please  don't  be  miserable, "  said 
Gwendolen,  with  pettish  remonstrance.  "  It  only 
makes  me  more  so.     I  am  in  doubt  myself. " 


!86  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  About  Mr.  Grandcourt's  intentions  ?  *  said  Mrs. 
Davilow,  gathering  determination  from  her  alarms. 

"  No ;  not  at  all, "  said  Gwendolen,  with  some 
curtness,  and  a  pretty  little  toss  of  the  head  as  she 
put  on  her  hat  again. 

"  About  whether  you  will  accept  him,  then  ?  ' 

"  Precisely. " 

"  Have  you  given  him  a  doubtful  answer  ?  * 

"  I  have  given  him  no  answer  at  all. " 

"  He  has  spoken  so  that  you  could  not  misunder- 
stand him  ? " 

"  As  far  as  I  would  let  him  speak.  " 

"  You  expect  him  to  persevere  ?  "  Mrs.  Davilow 
put  this  question  rather  anxiously,  and  receiving 
no  answer,  asked  another.  "  You  don't  consider 
that  you  have  discouraged  him  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say  not.  " 

"  I  thought  you  liked  him,  dear, "  said  Mrs. 
Davilow,  timidly. 

"  So  I  do,  mamma,  as  liking  goes.  There  is  less 
to  dislike  about  him  than  about  most  men.  He  is 
quiet  and  distingue. "  Gwendolen  so  far  spoke 
with  a  pouting  sort  of  gravity ;  but  suddenly  she 
recovered  some  of  her  mischievousness,  and  her 
face  broke  into  a  smile  as  she  added,  "  Indeed  he 
has  all  the  qualities  that  would  make  a  husband 
tolerable,  —  battlement,  veranda,  stables,  &c.,  no 
grins,  and  no  glass  in  his  eye. " 

"  Do  be  serious  with  me  for  a  moment,  dear. 
Am  I  to  understand  that  you  mean  to  accept  him  ?  " 

**  Oh,  pray,  mamma,  leave  me  to  myself, "  said 
Gwendolen,  with  a  pettish  distress  in  her  voice. 

And  Mrs.  Davilow  said  no  more. 

When  they  got  home,  Gwendolen  declared  that 
she  would  not  dine.     She  was  tired,  and  would 


MEETING  STREAMS.  187 

come  down  in  the  evening  after  she  had  taken 
some  rest.  The  probability  that  her  uncle  would 
hear  what  had  passed  did  not  trouble  her.  She 
was  convinced  that  whatever  he  might  say  would 
be  on  the  side  of  her  accepting  Grandcourt,  and 
she  wished  to  accept  him  if  she  could.  At  this 
moment  she  would  willingly  have  had  weights 
hung  on  her  own  caprice. 

Mr.  Gascoigne  did  hear  —  not  Gwendolen's  an- 
swers repeated  verbatim,  but  a  softened  generalized 
account  of  them.  The  mother  conveyed  as  vaguely 
as  the  keen  Rector's  questions  would  let  her  the 
impression  that  Gwendolen  was  in  some  uncer- 
tainty about  her  own  mind,  but  inclined  on  the 
whole  to  acceptance.  The  result  was  that  the 
uncle  felt  himself  called  on  to  interfere :  he  did 
not  conceive  that  he  should  do  his  duty  in  with- 
holding direction  from  his  niece  in  a  momentous 
crisis  of  this  kind.  Mrs.  Davilow  ventured  a 
hesitating  opinion  that  perhaps  it  would  be  safer 
to  say  nothing,  — Gwendolen  was  so  sensitive  (she 
did  not  like  to  say  wilful).  But  the  Eector's  was 
a  firm  mind,  grasping  its  first  judgments  tena- 
ciously and  acting  on  them  promptly,  whence 
counter-judgments  were  no  more  for  him  than 
shadows  fleeting  across  the  solid  ground  to  which 
he  adjusted  himself. 

This  match  with  Grandcourt  presented  itself  to 
him  as  a  sort  of  public  affair ;  perhaps  there  were 
ways  in  which  it  might  even  strengthen  the  Estab- 
lishment. To  the  Eector,  whose  father  (nobody 
would  have  suspected  it,  and  nobody  was  told)  had 
risen  to  be  a  provincial  corn-dealer,  aristocratic 
heirship  resembled  regal  heirship  in  excepting  its 
possessor  from   the   ordinary  standard   of   moral 


r88  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

judgments,  Grandcourt,  the  almost  certain  baronet, 
the  probable  peer,  was  to  be  ranged  with  public 
personages,   and  was  a  match  to  be  accepted  on 
broad  general  grounds,  national  and  ecclesiastical. 
Such  public  personages,  it  is  true,  are  often  in  the 
nature  of  giants  which  an  ancient  community  may 
have  felt  pride  and  safety  in  possessing,  though, 
regarded    privately,    these   born   eminences    must 
often  have  been  inconvenient  and  even  noisome. 
But  of   the  future  husband  personally  Mr.    Gas- 
coigne  was  disposed  to  think  the  best.     Gossip  is 
a  sort  of  smoke  that  comes  from  the  dirty  tobacco- 
pipes  of  those  who  diffuse   it:  it  proves  nothing 
but  the  bad  taste  of  the  smoker.     But  if  Grand- 
court  had  really  made  any  deeper  or  more  unfortu- 
nate experiments   in  folly  than  were  common   in 
young  men  of  high  prospects,  he  was  of  an  age  to 
have  finished  them.     All  accounts  can  be  suitably 
wound  up  when  a  man  has  not  ruined  himself,  and 
the  expense  may  be  taken  as  an  insurance  against 
future  error.     This  was  the  view  of  practical  wis- 
dom ;  with  reference  to  higher  views,    repentance 
had  a  supreme  moral  and  religious  value.     There 
was  every  reason  to  believe  that  a  woman  of  well- 
regulated  mind  would  be  happy  with  Grandcourt. 

It  was  no  surprise  to  Gwendolen  on  coming 
down  to  tea  to  be  told  that  her  uncle  wished  to  see 
her  in  the  dining-room.  He  threw  aside  the  paper 
as  she  entered,  and  greeted  her  with  his  usual  kind- 
ness. As  his  wife  had  remarked,  he  always  "  made 
much  "  of  Gwendolen,  and  her  importance  had 
risen  of  late.  "  My  dear, "  he  said,  in  a  fatherly 
way,  moving  a  chair  for  her  as  he  held  her  hand, 
*  I  want  to  speak  to  you  on  a  subject  which  is 
more  momentous  than  any  other  with  regard  to 


MEETING  STREAMS.  189 

your  welfare.  You  will  guess  what  I  mean.  But 
I  shall  speak  to  you  with  perfect  directness :  in 
such  matters  I  consider  myself  bound  to  act  as 
your  father.     You  have  no  objection,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  no,  uncle.  You  have  always  been 
very  kind  to  me, "  said  Gwendolen,  frankly.  This 
evening  she  was  willing,  if  it  were  possible,  to  be 
a  little  fortified  against  her  troublesome  self,  and 
her  resistant  temper  was  in  abeyance.  The  Rec- 
tor's mode  of  speech  always  conveyed  a  thrill  of 
authority,  as  of  a  word  of  command :  it  seemed  to 
take  for  granted  that  there  could  be  no  wavering 
in  the  audience,  and  that  every  one  was  going  to 
be  rationally  obedient. 

"  It  is  naturally  a  satisfaction  to  me  that  the 
prospect  of  a  marriage  for  you  —  advantageous  in 
the  highest  degree  —  has  presented  itself  so  early. 
I  do  not  know  exactly  what  has  passed  between 
you  and  Mr.  Grandcourt,  but  I  presume  there  can 
be  little  doubt,  from  the  way  in  which  he  has  dis- 
tinguished you,  that  he  desires  to  make  you  his 
wife. " 

Gwendolen  did  not  speak  immediately,  and  her 
uncle  said  with  more  emphasis,  — 

"  Have  you  any  doubt  of  that  yourself,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  that  is  what  he  has  been  thinking 
of.  But  he  may  have  changed  his  mind  to-mor- 
row, "  said  Gwendolen. 

"  Why  to-morrow  ?  Has  he  made  advances  which 
you  have  discouraged  ? " 

"  I  think  he  meant  —  he  began  to  make  advances 
—  but  I  did  not  encourage  them.  I  turned  the 
conversation.  " 

"  Will  you  confide  in  me  so  far  as  to  tell  me 
your  reasons  ?  " 


rQo  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  had  any  reasons,  uncle. " 
Gwendolen  laughed  rather  artificially. 

"  You  are  quite  capable  of  reflecting,  Gwendolen. 
You  are  aware  that  this  is  not  a  trivial  occasion, 
and  it  concerns  your  establishment  for  life  under 
circumstances  which  may  not  occur  again.  You 
have  a  duty  here  both  to  yourself  and  your  family. 
I  wish  to  understand  whether  you  have  any 
ground  for  hesitating  as  to  your  acceptance  of  Mr. 
Grandcourt. ' 

"  I  suppose  I  hesitate  without  grounds.  "  Gwen- 
dolen spoke  rather  poutingly,  and  her  uncle  grew 
suspicious. 

"  Is  he  disagreeable  to  you  personally  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  of  him  which  has 
affected  you  disagreeably  ?  "  The  Kector  thought 
it  impossible  that  Gwendolen  could  have  heard 
the  gossip  he  had  heard,  but  in  any  case  he  must 
endeavour  to  put  all  things  in  the  right  light  for 
her. 

"  I  have  heard  nothing  about  him  except  that  he 
is  a  great  match,"  said  Gwendolen,  with  some 
sauciness ;  "  and  that  affects  me  very  agreeably. ' 

"  Then,  my  dear  Gwendolen,  I  have  nothing 
further  to  say  than  this :  you  hold  your  fortune 
in  your  own  hands,  —  a  fortune  such  as  rarely  hap- 
pens to  a  girl  in  your  circumstances,  —  a  fortune  in 
fact  which  almost  takes  the  question  out  of  the 
range  of  mere  personal  feeling,  and  makes  your 
acceptance  of  it  a  duty.  If  Providence  offers  you 
power  and  position,  —  especially  when  unclogged  by 
any  conditions  that  are  repugnant  to  you,  —  your 
course  is  one  of  responsibility,  into  which  caprice 
must  not  enter.     A  man  does  not  like  to  have  his 


MEETING  STREAMS.  191 

attachment  trifled  with :  he  may  not  be  at  once 
repelled,  —  these  things  are  matters  of  individual 
disposition.  But  the  trifling  may  be  carried  too 
far.  And  I  must  point  out  to  you  that  in  case  Mr. 
Grandcourt  were  repelled  without  your  having  re- 
fused him,  without  your  having  intended  ulti- 
mately to  refuse  him,  your  situation  would  be  a 
humiliating  and  painful  one.  I,  for  my  part, 
should  regard  you  with  severe  disapprobation,  as 
the  victim  of  nothing  else  than  your  own  coquetry 
and  folly." 

Gwendolen  became  pallid  as  she  listened  to  this 
admonitory  speech.  The  ideas  it  raised  had  the 
force  of  sensations.  Her  resistant  courage  would 
not  help  her  here,  because  her  uncle  was  not  urg- 
ing her  against  her  own  resolve ;  he  was  pressing 
upon  her  the  motives  of  dread  which  she  already 
felt ;  he  was  making  her  more  conscious  of  the 
risks  that  lay  within  herself.  She  was  silent,  and 
the  Eector  observed  that  he  had  produced  some 
strong  effect. 

"  I  mean  this  in  kindness,  my  dear.  "  His  tone 
had  softened. 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  uncle, "  said  Gwendolen, 
rising  and  shaking  her  head  back,  as  if  to  rouse 
herself  out  of  painful  passivity.  "  I  am  not  fool- 
ish. I  know  that  I  must  be  married  some  time 
—  before  it  is  too  late.  And  I  don't  see  how  I 
could  do  better  than  marry  Mr.  Grandcourt.  I 
mean  to  accept  him,  if  possible. "  She  felt  as  if 
she  were  reinforcing  herself  by  speaking  with  this 
decisiveness  to  her  uncle. 

But  the  Eector  was  a  little  startled  by  so  bare  a 
version  of  his  own  meaning  from  those  young  lips. 
He  wished  that  in  her  mind  his  advice  should  be 


192  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

taken  in  an  infusion  of  sentiments  proper  to  a  girl, 
and  such  as  are  presupposed  in  the  advice  of  a 
clergyman,  although  he  may  not  consider  them 
always  appropriate  to  be  put  forward.  He  wished 
his  niece  parks,  carriages,  a  title,  —  everything 
that  would  make  this  world  a  pleasant  abode ;  but 
he  wished  her  not  to  be  cynical,  —  to  be,  on  the 
contrary,  religiously  dutiful,  and  have  warm 
domestic  affections. 

"  My  dear  Gwendolen, "  he  said,  rising  also,  and 
speaking  with  benignant  gravity,  "  I  trust  that  you 
will  find  in  marriage  a  new  fountain  of  duty  and 
affection.  Marriage  is  the  only  true  and  satisfac- 
tory sphere  of  a  woman,  and  if  your  marriage  with 
Mr.  Grandcourt  should  be  happily  decided  upon, 
you  will  have  probably  an  increasing  power,  both 
of  rank  and  wealth,  which  may  be  used  for  the 
benefit  of  others.  These  considerations  are  some- 
thing higher  than  romance.  You  are  fitted  by 
natural  gifts  for  a  position  which,  considering  your 
birth  and  early  prospects,  could  hardly  be  looked 
forward  to  as  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things ;  and 
I  trust  that  you  will  grace  it  not  only  by  those 
personal  gifts,  but  by  a  good  and  consistent  life.  " 

"  I  hope  mamma  will  be  the  happier, "  said 
Gwendolen,  in  a  more  cheerful  way,  lifting  her 
hands  backward  to  her  neck  and  moving  towards 
the  door.  She  wanted  to  waive  those  higher 
considerations. 

Mr.  Gascoigne  felt  that  he  had  come  to  a  satis- 
factory understanding  with  his  niece,  and  had 
furthered  her  happy  settlement  in  life  by  further- 
ing her  engagement  to  Grandcourt.  Meanwhile 
there  was  another  person  to  whom  the  contempla- 
tion of  that  issue  had  been  a  motive   for  some 


MEETING  STREAMS.  193 

activity,  and  who  believed  that  he  too  on  this 
particular  day  had  done  something  towards  bring- 
ing about  a  favourable  decision  in  his  sense,  — ■ 
which  happened  to  be  the  reverse  of  the  Kector'a 

Mr.  Lush's  absence  from  Diplow  during  Gwen- 
dolen's visit  had  been  due  not  to  any  fear  on 
his  part  of  meeting  that  supercilious  young  lady, 
or  of  being  abashed  by  her  frank  dislike,  but  to  an 
engagement  from  which  he  expected  important 
consequences.  He  was  gone  in  fact  to  the  Wan- 
chester  Station  to  meet  a  lady  accompanied  by  a 
maid  and  two  children,  whom  he  put  into  a  fly, 
and  afterwards  followed  to  the  hotel  of  the  Golden 
Keys  in  that  town.  An  impressive  woman,  whom 
many  would  turn  to  look  at  again  in  passing ;  her 
figure  was  slim  and  sufficiently  tall,  her  face  rather 
emaciated,  so  that  its  sculpturesque  beauty  was  the 
more  pronounced,  her  crisp  hair  perfectly  black, 
and  her  large  anxious  eyes  also  what  we  call  black. 
Her  dress  was  soberly  correct,  her  age  perhaps 
physically  more  advanced  than  the  number  of  years 
would  imply,  but  hardly  less  than  seven-and-thirty. 
An  uneasy-looking  woman:  her  glance  seemed  to 
presuppose  that  people  and  things  were  going  to 
be  unfavourable  to  her,  while  she  was  nevertheless 
ready  to  meet  them  with  resolution.  The  children 
were  lovely,  — a  dark -haired  girl  of  six  or  more,  a 
fairer  boy  of  five.  When  Lush  incautiously  ex- 
pressed some  surprise  at  her  having  brought  the 
children,  she  said,  with  a  sharp-edged  intonation, — 

"  Did  you  suppose  I  should  come  wandering 
about  here  by  myself?  Why  should  I  not  bring 
all  four  if  I  liked?" 

"  Oh,  certainly, "  said  Lush,  with  his  usual 
fluent  nonchalance. 

VOL.  I.  — 13 


194  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

He  stayed  an  hour  or  so  in  conference  with  her, 
and  rode  back  to  Diplow  in  a  state  of  mind  that 
was  at  once  hopeful  and  busily  anxious  as  to  the 
execution  of  the  little  plan  on  which  his  hopeful- 
ness was  based.  Grandcourt's  marriage  to  Gwen- 
dolen Harleth  would  not,  he  believed,  be  much  of 
a  good  to  either  of  them,  and  it  would  plainly  be 
fraught  with  disagreeables  to  himself.  But  now 
he  felt  confident  enough  to  say  inwardly,  "  I  will 
take,  nay,  I  will  lay  odds  that  the  marriage  will 
never  happen. ' 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

"  I  will  not  clothe  myself  in  wreck,  —  wear  gems 
Sawed  from  cramped  finger-bones  of  women  drowned ; 
Feel  chilly  vaporous  hands  of  ireful  ghosts 
Clutching  my  necklace  ;  trick  my  maiden  breast 
With  orphans'  heritage.     Let  your  dead  love 
Marry  its  dead." 

Gwendolen  looked  lovely  and  vigorous  as  a  tall, 
newly  opened  lily  the  next  morning :  there  was  a 
reaction  of  young  energy  in  her,  and  yesterday's 
self-distrust  seemed  no  more  than  the  transient 
shiver  on  the  surface  of  a  full  stream.  The  roving 
archery  match  in  Cardell  Chase  was  a  delightful 
prospect  for  the  sport's  sake:  she  felt  herself 
beforehand  moving  about  like  a  wood-nymph  under 
the  beeches  (in  appreciative  company),  and  the 
imagined  scene  lent  a  charm  to  further  advances 
on  the  part  of  Grandcourt,  —  not  an  impassioned 
lyrical  Daphnis  for  the  wood-nymph,  certainly  ;  but 
so  much  the  better.  To-day  Gwendolen  foresaw 
him  making  slow  conversational  approaches  to  a 
declaration,  and  foresaw  herself  awaiting  and  encour- 
aging it  according  to  the  rational  conclusion  which 
she  had  expressed  to  her  uncle. 

When  she  came  down  to  breakfast  (after  every 
one  had  left  the  table  except  Mrs.  Davilow)  there 
were  letters  on  her  plate.  One  of  them  she  read 
with  a  gathering  smile,  and  then  handed  it  to  her 
mamma,  who,  on  returning  it,  smiled  also,  finding 
new  cheerfulness  in  the  good  spirits  her  daughter 
had  shown  ever  since  waking,  and  said, — 


196  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  You  don't  feel  inclined  to  go  a  thousand  miles 
away  ? " 

"  Not  exactly  so  far." 

"  It  was  a  sad  omission  not  to  have  written  again 
before  this.  Can't  you  write  now  —  before  we  set 
out  this  morning  ? " 

"  It  is  not  so  pressing.  To-raorrow  will  do.  You 
see  they  leave  town  to-day.  I  must  write  to  Dover. 
They  will  be  there  till  Monday." 

"  Shall  I  write  for  you,  dear,  —  if  it  teases  you  ? " 

Gwendolen  did  not  speak  immediately,  but  after 
sipping  her  coffee  answered  brusquely,  "  Oh,  no, 
let  it  be  ;  I  will  write  to-morrow."  Then,  feeling  a 
touch  of  compunction,  she  looked  up  and  said  with 
playful  tenderness,  "  Dear,  old,  beautiful  mamma !  " 

"  Old,  child,  truly." 

"  Please  don't,  mamma  !  I  meant  old  for  darling. 
You  are  hardly  twenty-five  years  older  than  I  am. 
When  you  talk  in  that  way,  my  life  shrivels  up 
before  me." 

"  One  can  have  a  great  deal  of  happiness  in 
twenty-five  years,  my  dear." 

"  I  must  lose  no  time  in  beginning,"  said  Gwen- 
dolen, merrily.  "  The  sooner  I  get  my  palaces  and 
coaches  the  better." 

"And  a  good  husband  who  adores  you,  Gwen,'* 
said  Mrs.  Davilow,  encouragingly. 

Gwendolen  put  out  her  lips  saucily,  and  said 
nothing. 

It  was  a  slight  drawback  on  her  pleasure  in 
starting  that  the  Eector  was  detained  by  magis- 
trate's business,  and  would  probably  not  be  able  to 
get  to  Cardell  Chase  at  all  that  day.  She  cared 
little  that  Mrs.  Gascoigne  and  Anna  chose  not  to 
go  without  him,  but  her  uncle's  presence   would 


MEETING  STREAMS.  197 

have  seemed  to  make  it  a  matter  of  course  that  the 
decision  taken  would  be  acted  on.  For  decision  in 
itself  began  to  be  formidable.  Having  come  close 
to  accepting  Grandcourt,  Gwendolen  felt  this  lot  of 
unhoped-for  fulness  rounding  itself  too  definitely : 
when  we  take  to  wishing  a  great  deal  for  ourselves, 
whatever  we  get  soon  turns  into  mere  limitation 
and  exclusion.  Still  there  was  the  reassuring 
thought  that  marriage  would  be  the  gate  into  a 
larger  freedom. 

The  place  of  meeting  was  a  grassy  spot  called 
Green  Arbour,  where  a  bit  of  hanging  wood  made  a 
sheltering  amphitheatre.  It  was  here  that  the 
coachful  of  servants  with  provisions  had  to  prepare 
the  picnic  meal ;  and  the  warden  of  the  Chase  was  to 
guide  the  roving  archers  so  as  to  keep  them  within  the 
due  distance  from  this  centre,  and  hinder  them  from 
wandering  beyond  the  limit  which  had  been  fixed 
on,  —  a  curve  that  might  be  drawn  through  certain 
well-known  points,  such  as  the  Double  Oak,  the 
Whispering  Stones,  and  the  High  Cross.  The  plan 
was,  to  take  only  a  preliminary  stroll  before  lun- 
cheon, keeping  the  main  roving  expedition  for  the 
more  exquisite  lights  of  the  afternoon.  The  mus- 
ter was  rapid  enough  to  save  every  one  from  dull 
moments  of  waiting ;  and  when  the  groups  began  to 
scatter  themselves  through  the  light  and  shadow 
made  here  by  closely  neighbouring  beeches  and 
there  by  rarer  oaks,  one  may  suppose  that  a  painter 
would  have  been  glad  to  look  on.  This  roving 
archery  was  far  prettier  than  the  stationary  game ; 
but  success  in  shooting  at  variable  marks  was  less 
favoured  by  practice,  and  the  hits  were  distributed 
among  the  volunteer  archers  otherwise  than  they 
would  have  been  in   target-shooting.      From  this 


ipS  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

cause,  perhaps,  as  well  as  from  the  twofold  distrac- 
tion of  being  preoccupied  and  wishing  not  to  betray 
her  preoccupation,  Gwendolen  did  not  greatly  dis- 
tinguish herself  in  these  first  experiments,  unless  it 
were  by  the  lively  grace  with  which  she  took  her 
comparative  failure.  She  was  in  her  white  and 
green  as  on  the  day  of  the  former  archery  meeting, 
when  it  made  an  epoch  for  her  that  she  was  intro- 
duced to  Grandcourt ;  he  was  continually  by  her 
side  now,  yet  it  would  have  been  hard  to  tell  from 
mere  looks  and  manners  that  their  relation  to  each 
other  had  at  all  changed  since  their  first  conversa- 
tion. Still  there  were  other  grounds  that  made 
most  persons  conclude  them  to  be,  if  not  engaged 
already,  on  the  eve  of  being  so.  And  she  believed 
this  herself.  As  they  were  all  returning  towards 
Green  Arbour  in  divergent  groups,  not  thinking  at  all 
of  taking  aim  but  merely  chattering,  words  passed 
which  seemed  really  the  beginning  of  that  end,  — 
the  beginning  of  her  acceptance.  Grandcourt  said, 
"  Do  you  know  how  long  it  is  since  I  first  saw  you 
in  this  dress  ?  " 

"The  archery  meeting  was  on  the  25th,  and  this 
is  the  13th,"  said  Gwendolen,  laughingly.  "  I  am 
not  good  at  calculating,  but  I  will  venture  to  say 
that  it  must  be  nearly  three  weeks." 

A  little  pause,  and  then  he  said,  "  That  is  a  great 
loss  of  time." 

"  That  your  knowing  me  has  caused  you  ?  Pray 
don't  be  uncomplimentary  :  I  don't  like  it." 

Pause  again.  "  It  is  because  of  the  gain  that  I 
feel  the  loss." 

Here  Gwendolen  herself  left  a  pause.  She  was 
thinking,  "  He  is  really  very  ingenious.  He  never 
speaks  stupidly."     Her  silence  was  so  unusual  that 


MEETING  STREAMS.  199 

it  seemed  the  strongest  of  favourable  answers,  and 
he  continued, — 

"  The  gain  of  knowing  you  makes  me  feel  the 
time  I  lose  in  uncertainty.  Do  you  like  uncer- 
tainty ? " 

"  I  think  I  do,  rather,"  said  Gwendolen,  suddenly 
beaming  on  him  with  a  playful  smile.  "  There  is 
more  in  it." 

Grandcourt  met  her  laughing  eyes  with  a  slow, 
steady  look  right  into  them,  which  seemed  like 
vision  in  the  abstract,  and  said,  "Do  you  mean 
more  torment  for  me  ? " 

There  was  something  so  strange  to  Gwendolen  in 
this  moment  that  she  was  quite  shaken  out  of  her 
usual  self-consciousness.  Blushing  and  turning 
away  her  eyes,  she  said,  "  No,  that  would  make  me 
sorry." 

Grandcourt  would  have  followed  up  this  answer, 
which  the  change  in  her  manner  made  apparently 
decisive  of  her  favourable  intention  ;  but  he  was  not 
in  any  way  overcome  so  as  to  be  unaware  that  they 
were  now,  within  sight  of  everybody,  descending  the 
slope  into  Green  Arbour,  and  descending  it  at  an  ill- 
chosen  point  where  it  began  to  be  inconveniently 
steep.  This  was  a  reason  for  offering  his  hand  in 
the  literal  sense  to  help  her ;  she  took  it,  and  they 
came  down  in  silence,  much  observed  by  those 
already  on  the  level,  —  among  others  by  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint,  who  happened  to  be  standing  with 
Mrs.  Davilow.  That  lady  had  now  made  up  her 
mind  that  Grandcourt's  merits  were  not  such  as 
would  have  induced  Catherine  to  accept  him, 
Catherine  having  so  high  a  standard  as  to  have 
refused  Lord  Slogan.  Hence  she  looked  at  the 
tenant  of  Diplow  with  dispassionate  eyes. 


200  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"Mr.  Grandcourt  is  not  equal  as  a  man  to  his 
uncle,  Sir  Hugo  ^lallinger,  —  too  languid.  To  be 
sure,  Mr.  Grandcourt  is  a  much  younger  man,  but  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  Sir  Hugo  were  to  outlive  him, 
notwithstanding  the  difference  of  years.  It  is  ill 
calculating  on  successions,"  concluded  Mrs.  Arrow- 
point,  rather  too  loudly. 

"  It  is  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  able  to  assent 
with  quiet  cheerfulness,  for  she  was  so  well  satisfied 
with  the  actual  situation  of  affairs  that  her  habitual 
melancholy  in  their  general  unsatisfactoriness  was 
altogether  in  abeyance. 

I  am  not  concerned  to  tell  of  the  food  that  was 
eaten  in  that  green  refectory,  or  even  to  dwell  on 
the  glories  of  the  forest  scenery  that  spread  them- 
selves out  beyond  the  level  front  of  the  hollow ; 
being  just  now  bound  to  tell  a  story  of  life  at  a 
stage  when  the  blissful  beauty  of  earth  and  sky 
entered  only  by  narrow  and  oblique  inlets  into  the 
consciousness,  which  was  busy  with  a  small  social 
drama  almost  as  little  penetrated  by  a  feeling  of 
wider  relations  as  if  it  had  been  a  puppet-show.  It 
will  be  understood  that  the  food  and  champagne 
were  of  the  best,  —  the  talk  and  laughter,  too, 
in  the  sense  of  belonging  to  the  best  society,  where 
no  one  makes  an  invidious  display  of  anything  in 
particular,  and  the  advantages  of  the  world  are 
taken  with  that  high-bred  depreciation  which  fol- 
lows from  being  accustomed  to  them.  Some  of  the 
gentlemen  strolled  a  little  and  indulged  in  a  cigar, 
there  being  a  sufficient  interval  before  four  o'clock, 
—  the  time  for  beginning  to  rove  again.  Among 
these,  strange  to  say,  was  Grandcourt ;  but  not  Mr. 
Lush,  who  seemed  to  be  taking  his  pleasure  quite 
generously   to-day  by  making  himself  particularly 


MEETING  STREAMS.  201 

serviceable,  ordering  everything  for  everybody,  and 
by  this  activity  becoming  more  than  ever  a  blot  on 
the  scene  to  Gwendolen,  though  he  kept  himself 
amiably  aloof  from  her,  and  never  even  looked  at 
her  obviously.  When  there  was  a  general  move  to 
prepare  for  starting,  it  appeared  that  the  bows  had 
all  been  put  under  the  charge  of  Lord  Brackenshaw's 
valet,  and  Mr.  Lush  was  concerned  to  save  ladies  the 
trouble  of  fetching  theirs  from  the  carriage  where 
they  were  propped.  He  did  not  intend  to  bring 
Gwendolen's ;  but  she,  fearful  lest  he  should  do  so, 
hurried  to  fetch  it  herself.  The  valet,  seeing  her 
approach,  met  her  with  it,  and  in  giving  it  into  her 
hand  gave  also  a  letter  addressed  to  her.  She  asked 
no  question  about  it,  perceived  at  a  glance  that  the 
address  was  in  a  lady's  handwriting  (of  the  delicate 
kind  which  used  to  be  esteemed  feminine  before  the 
present  uncial  period),  and  moving  away  with  her 
bow  in  her  hand,  saw  Mr.  Lush  coming  to  fetch 
other  bows.  To  avoid  meeting  him  she  turned  aside 
and  walked  with  her  back  towards  the  stand  of 
carriages,  opening  the  letter.  It  contained  these 
words :  — 

"If  Miss  Harleth  is  in  doubt  whether  she  should 
accept  Mr.  Grandcourt,  let  her  break  from  her  party 
after  they  have  passed  the  Whispering  Stones  and 
return  to  that  spot.  She  will  then  hear  something  to 
decide  her,  but  she  can  only  hear  it  by  keeping  this 
letter  a  strict  secret  from  every  one.  If  she  does  not 
act  according  to  this  letter,  she  will  repent,  as  the 
woman  who  writes  it  has  repented.  The  secrecy  Miss 
Harleth  will  feel  herself  bound  in  honour  to  guard." 

Gwendolen  felt  an  inward  shock,  but  her  imme- 
diate thought  was,  "  It  is  come  in  time."     It  lay  in 


302  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

her  youtlifulness  that  she  was  absorbed  by  the  idea  of 
the  revelation  to  be  made,  and  had  not  even  a  momen- 
tary suspicion  of  contrivance  that  could  justify  her  in 
showing  the  letter.  Her  mind  gathered  itself  up  at 
once  into  the  resolution  that  she  would  manage  to 
go  unobserved  to  the  Whispering  Stones ;  and  thrust- 
ing the  letter  into  her  pocket,  she  turned  back  to 
rejoin  the  company,  with  that  sense  of  having 
something  to  conceal  which  to  her  nature  had  a 
bracing  quality  and  helped  her  to  be  mistress  of 
herself. 

It  was  a  surprise  to  every  one  that  Grandcourt 
was  not,  like  the  other  smokers,  on  the  spot  in  time 
to  set  out  roving  with  the  rest.  "  We  shall  alight 
on  him  by  and  by,"  said  Lord  Brackenshaw ;  "  he 
can't  be  gone  far."  At  any  rate,  no  man  could  be 
waited  for.  This  apparent  forgetfulness  might  be 
taken  for  the  distraction  of  a  lover  so  absorbed  in 
thinking  of  the  beloved  object  as  to  forget  an 
appointment  which  would  bring  him  into  her  actual 
presence.  And  the  good-natured  Earl  gave  Gwendo- 
len a  distant  jocose  hint  to  that  effect,  which  she 
took  with  suitable  quietude.  But  the  thought  in 
her  own  mind  was,  "  Can  he,  too,  be  starting  away 
from  a  decision  ? "  It  was  not  exactly  a  pleasant 
thought  to  her ;  but  it  was  near  the  truth.  "  Start- 
ing away,"  however,  was  not  the  right  expression 
for  the  languor  of  intention  that  came  over  Grand- 
court,  like  a  fit  of  diseased  numbness,  when  an  end 
seemed  within  easy  reach :  to  desist  then,  when  all 
expectation  was  to  the  contrary,  became  another 
gratification  of  mere  will,  sublimely  independent  of 
definite  motive.  At  that  moment  he  had  begun  a 
second  large  cigar  in  a  vague,  hazy  obstinacy,  which, 
if  Lush  or  any  other  mortal  who  might  be  insulted 


MEETING  STREAMS.  203 

with  impunity  had  interrupted  by  overtaking  him 
with  a  request  for  his  return,  would  have  expressed 
itself  by  a  slow  removal  of  his  cigar  to  say,  in  an 
undertone,  "  You  '11  be  kind  enough  to  go  to  the 
devil,  will  you  ? " 

But  he  was  not  interrupted,  and  the  rovers  set  off 
without  any  visible  depression  of  spirits,  leaving 
behind  only  a  few  of  the  less  vigorous  ladies, 
including  Mrs.  Davilow,  who  preferred  a  quiet 
stroll  free  from  obligation  to  keep  up  with  others. 
The  enjoyment  of  the  day  was  soon  at  its  highest 
pitch,  the  archery  getting  more  spirited  and  the 
changing  scenes  of  the  forest  from  roofed  grove  to 
open  glade  growing  lovelier  with  the  lengthening 
shadows,  and  the  deeply  felt  but  undefinable  grada- 
tions of  the  mellowing  afternoon.  It  was  agreed 
that  they  were  playing  an  extemporized  "  As  you 
like  it ; "  and  when  a  pretty  compliment  had  been 
turned  to  Gwendolen  about  her  having  the  part  of 
Eosalind,  she  felt  the  more  compelled  to  be  sur- 
passing in  liveliness.  This  was  not  very  difficult 
to  her,  for  the  effect  of  what  had  happened  to-day 
was  an  excitement  which  needed  a  vent,  a  sense 
of  adventure  rather  than  alarm,  and  a  straining 
towards  the  management  of  her  retreat  so  as  not 
to  be  impeded. 

The  roving  had  been  lasting  nearly  an  hour  before 
the  arrival  at  the  Whispering  Stones,  two  tall  con- 
ical blocks  that  leaned  towards  each  other  like 
gigantic  gray-mantled  figures.  They  were  soon 
surveyed  and  passed  by  with  the  remark  that  they 
would  be  good  ghosts  on  a  starlit  night.  But  a  soft 
sunlight  was  on  them  now,  and  Gwendolen  felt  dar- 
ing.  The  stones  were  near  a  fine  grove  of  beeches 
where  the  archers  found  plenty  of  marks. 


204  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  How  far  are  we  from  Green  Arbour  now  ?  "  said 
Gwendolen,  having  got  in  front  by  the  side  of  the 
warden. 

"  Oh,  not  more  than  half  a  mile,  taking  along  the 
avenue  we  're  going  to  cross  up  there  :  but  I  shall 
take  round  a  couple  of  miles,  by  the  High  Cross." 

She  was  falling  back  among  the  rest,  when 
suddenly  they  seemed  all  to  be  hurrying  obliquely 
forward  under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Lush,  and, 
lingering  a  little  where  she  was,  she  perceived  her 
opportunity  of  slipping  away.  Soon  she  was  out 
of  sight,  and  without  running  she  seemed  to  herself 
to  iiy  along  the  ground  and  count  the  moments 
nothing  till  she  found  herself  back  again  at  the 
Whispering  Stones.  They  turned  their  blank  gray 
sides  to  her ;  what  was  there  on  the  other  side  ? 
If  there  were  nothing  after  all  ?  That  was  her 
only  dread  now,  —  to  have  to  turn  back  again  in 
mystification;  and  walking  round  the  right-hand 
stone  without  pause,  she  found  herself  in  front  of 
some  one  whose  large  dark  eyes  met  hers  at  a  foot's 
distance.  In  spite  of  expectation  she  was  startled 
and  shrank  back,  but  in  doing  so  she  could  take  in 
the  whole  figure  of  this  stranger  and  perceive  that 
she  was  unmistakably  a  lady,  and  one  who  must 
once  have  been  exceedingly  handsome.  She  per- 
ceived, also,  that  a  few  yards  from  her  were  two 
children  seated  on  the  grass. 

"  Miss  Harleth  ? "  said  the  lady. 

"Yes."  All  Gwendolen's  consciousness  was 
wonder. 

"  Have  you  accepted  Mr.  Grandcourt  ? " 

"No." 

"I  have  promised  to  tell  you  something.  And 
you  will  promise   to  keep   my   secret.      However 


MEETING  STREAMS.  205 

you  may  decide,  you  will  not  tell  Mr.  Grandcourt, 
or  any  one  else,  that  you  have  seen  me  ? " 

"  I  promise." 

"My  name  is  Lydia  Glasher.  Mr.  Grandcourt 
ought  not  to  marry  any  one  but  me.  I  left  my 
husband  and  child  for  him  nine  years  ago.  Those 
two  children  are  his,  and  we  have  two  others  — girls 
—  who  are  older.  My  husband  is  dead  now,  and 
Mr.  Grandcourt  ought  to  marry  me.  He  ought  to 
make  that  boy  his  heir." 

She  looked  towards  the  boy  as  she  spoke,  and 
Gwendolen's  eyes  followed  hers.  The  handsome 
little  fellow  was  puffing  out  his  cheeks  in  trying  to 
blow  a  tiny  trumpet  which  remained  dumb.  His 
hat  hung  backward  by  a  string,  and  his  brown  curls 
caught  the  sun-rays.     He  was  a  cherub. 

The  two  women's  eyes  met  again,  and  Gwendolen 
said  proudly,  "  I  will  not  interfere  with  your  wishes." 
She  looked  as  if  she  were  shivering,  and  her  lips 
were  pale. 

"You  are  very  attractive,  Miss  Harleth.  But 
when  he  first  knew  me,  I  too  was  young.  Since 
then  my  life  has  been  broken  up  and  embittered. 
It  is  not  fair  that  he  should  be  happy  and  I  miser- 
able, and  my  boy  thrust  out  of  sight  for  another." 

These  words  were  uttered  with  a  biting  accent, 
but  with  a  determined  abstinence  from  anything 
violent  in  tone  or  manner.  Gwendolen,  watching 
Mrs.  Glasher's  face  while  she  spoke,  felt  a  sort  of 
terror :  it  was  as  if  some  ghastly  vision  had  come  to 
her  in  a  dream  and  said,  "  I  am  a  woman's  life." 

"  Have  you  anything  more  to  say  to  me  ? "  she 
asked  in  a  low  tone,  but  still  proudly  and  coldly. 
The  revulsion  within  her  was  not  tending  to  soften 
her.     Every  one  seemed  hateful. 


2o6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"Nothing.  You  know  what  I  wished  you  to 
know.  You  can  inquire  about  me  if  you  like.  My 
husband  was  Colonel  Glasher." 

"  Then  I  will  go,"  said  Gwendolen,  moving  away 
with  a  ceremonious  inclination  which  was  returned 
with  equal  grace. 

In  a  few  minutes  Gwendolen  was  in  the  beech 
grove  again,  but  her  party  had  gone  out  of  sight 
and  apparently  had  not  sent  in  search  of  her,  for  all 
was  solitude  till  she  had  reached  the  avenue  pointed 
out  by  the  warden.  She  determined  to  take  this 
way  back  to  Green  Arbour,  which  she  reached 
quickly ;  rapid  movements  seeming  to  her  just  now 
a  means  of  suspending  the  thoughts  which  might 
prevent  her  from  behaving  with  due  calm.  She 
had  already  made  up  her  mind  what  step  she  would 
take. 

Mrs.  Davilow  was  of  course  astonished  to  see 
Gwendolen  returning  alone,  and  was  not  without 
some  uneasiness  which  the  presence  of  other  ladies 
hindered  her  from  showing.  In  answer  to  her  words 
of  surprise  Gwendolen  said,  — 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  rather  silly.  I  lingered  behind 
to  look  at  the  Whispering  Stones,  and  the  rest 
hurried  on  after  something,  so  I  lost  sight  of  them. 
I  thought  it  best  to  come  home  by  the  short  way, — 
the  avenue  that  the  warden  had  told  me  of.  I  *m 
not  sorry  after  all.     I  had  had  enough  walking." 

"  Your  party  did  not  meet  Mr.  Graudcourt,  I  pre- 
sume," said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  not  without  intention. 

"  No,"  said  Gwendolen,  with  a  little  flash  of  defi- 
ance and  a  light  laugh.  "  And  we  did  n't  see  any 
carvings  on  the  trees  either.  Where  can  he  be  ? 
I  should  think  he  has  fallen  into  the  pool  or  had 
an  apoplectic  fit." 


MEETING  STREAMS.  207 

With  all  Gwendolen's  resolve  not  to  betray  any 
agitation,  she  could  not  help  it  that  her  tone  was 
unusually  high  and  hard,  and  her  mother  felt  sure 
that  something  unpropitious  had  happened. 

Mrs.  Arrowpoint  thought  that  the  self-confident 
young  lady  was  much  piqued,  and  that  Mr.  Grand- 
court  was  probably  seeing  reason  to  change  his  mind. 

"  If  you  have  no  objection,  mamma,  I  will  order  the 
carriage,"  said  Gwendolen.  "  I  am  tired ;  and 
every  one  will  be  going  soon." 

Mrs.  Davilow  assented ;  but  by  the  time  the  car- 
riage was  announced  as  ready  —  the  horses  having 
to  be  fetched  from  the  stables  on  the  warden's 
premises  —  the  roving  party  reappeared,  and  with 
them  Mr.  Grandcourt. 

".Ah,  there  you  are ! "  said  Lord  Brackenshaw, 
going  up  to  Gwendolen,  who  was  arranging  her 
mamma's  shawl  for  the  drive.  "We  thought  at  first 
you  had  alighted  on  Grandcourt  and  he  had  taken 
you  home.  Lush  said  so.  But  after  that  we  met 
Grandcourt.  However,  we  did  n't  suppose  you  could 
be  in  any  danger.  The  warden  said  he  had  told  you 
a  near  way  back." 

"  You  are  going  ? "  said  Grandcourt,  coming  up 
with  his  usual  air,  as  if  he  did  not  conceive  that 
there  had  been  any  omission  on  his  part.  Lord 
Brackenshaw  gave  place  to  him  and  moved  away. 

"Yes,  we  are  going,"  said  Gwendolen,  looking 
busily  at  her  scarf,  which  she  was  arranging  across 
her  shoulders  Scotch  fashion. 

"  May  I  call  at  Offendene  to-morrow  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  if  you  like,"  said  Gwendolen,  sweeping 
him  from  a  distance  with  her  eyelashes.  Her  voice 
was  light  and  sharp  as  the  first  touch  of  frost. 

Mrs.  Davilow  accepted  his  arm  to  lead  her  to  the 


2o8  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

carriage  ;  but  while  that  was  happening,  Gwendolen 
with  incredible  swiftness  had  got  in  advance  of  them, 
and  had  sprung  into  the  carriage. 

"  I  got  in,  mamma,  because  I  wished  to  be  on  this 
side,"  she  said  apologetically.  But  she  had  avoided 
Grandcourt's  touch :  he  only  lifted  his  hat  and 
walked  away,  —  with  the  not  unsatisfactory  impres- 
sion that  she  meant  to  show  herself  offended  by  his 
neglect. 

The  mother  and  daughter  drove  for  five  minutes 
in  silence.  Then  Gwendolen  said,  "  I  intend  to  join 
the  Langens  at  Dover,  mamma.  I  shall  pack  up 
immediately  on  getting  home,  and  set  off  by  the 
early  train.  I  shall  be  at  Dover  almost  as  soon  as 
they  are  ;  we  can  let  them  know  by  telegraph." 

"  Good  heavens,  child !  what  can  be  your  reason 
for  saying  so?" 

"  My  reason  for  saying  it,  mamma,  is  that  I  mean 
to  do  it." 

"  But  why  do  you  mean  to  do  it  ? " 

"  I  wish  to  go  away." 

"  Is  it  because  you  are  offended  with  Mr.  Grand- 
court's  odd  behaviour  in  walking  ofif  to-day?" 

"  It  is  useless  to  enter  into  such  questions.  I  am 
not  going  in  any  case  to  marry  Mr.  Grandcourt 
Don't  interest  yourself  further  about  him." 

"  What  can  I  say  to  your  uncle,  Gwendolen  ? 
Consider  the  position  you  place  me  in.  You  led 
him  to  believe  only  last  night  that  you  had  made  up 
your  mind  in  favour  of  Mr.  Grandcourt." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  cause  you  annoyance,  mamma 
dear,  but  I  can't  help  it,"  said  Gwendolen,  ^vith  still 
harder  resistance  in  her  tone.  "Whatever  you  or 
my  uncle  may  think  or  do,  I  shall  not  alter  my 
resolve,  and  I  shall  not  tell  my  reason.     I  don't  care 

/ 


MEETING  STREAMS.  209 

what  comes  of  it.  I  don't  care  if  I  never  marry  any 
one.  There  is  nothing  worth  caring  for.  I  believe 
all  men  are  bad,  and  I  hate  them." 

"  But  need  you  set  off  in  this  way,  Gwendolen  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Davilow,  miserable  and  helpless. 

"Now,  mamma,  don't  interfere  with  me.  If  you 
have  ever  had  any  trouble  in  your  own  life,  remem- 
ber it  and  don't  interfere  with  me.  If  I  am  to  be 
miserable,  let  it  be  by  my  own  choice." 

The  mother  was  reduced  to  trembling  silence. 
She  began  to  see  that  the  difficulty  would  be  lessened 
if  Gwendolen  went  away. 

And  she  did  go.  The  packing  was  all  carefully 
done  that  evening,  and  not  long  after  dawn  the  next 
day  Mrs.  Davilow  accompanied  her  daughter  to  the 
railway  station.  The  sweet  dews  of  morning,  the 
cows  and  horses  looking  over  the  hedges  without 
any  particular  reason,  the  early  travellers  on  foot 
with  their  bundles,  seemed  all  very  melancholy  and 
purposeless  to  them  both.  The  dingy  torpor  of  the 
railway  station,  before  the  ticket  could  be  taken,  was 
still  worse.  Gwendolen  had  certainly  hardened  in 
the  last  twenty-four  hours :  her  mother's  trouble 
evidently  counted  for  little  in  her  present  state  of 
mind,  which  did  not  essentially  differ  from  the  mood 
that  makes  men  take  to  worse  conduct  when  their 
belief  in  persons  or  things  is  upset.  Gwendolen's 
uncontrolled  reading,  though  consisting  chiefly  in 
what  are  called  pictures  of  life,  had  somehow  not 
prepared  her  for  this  encounter  with  reality.  Is 
that  surprising  ?  It  is  to  be  believed  that  attend- 
ance at  the  oipha  houffe  in  the  present  day  would 
not  leave  men's  minds  entirely  without  shock,  if  the 
manners  observed  there  with  some  applause  were 
suddenly  to  start  up  in  their  own  families,    Perspec- 

VOL.  I. — 14 


2IO  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

tive,  as  its  inventor  remarked,  is  a  beautiful  thing. 
What  horrors  of  damp  huts,  where  human  beings 
languish,  may  not  become  picturesque  through  aerial 
distance !  What  hymning  of  cancerous  vices  may 
we  not  languish  over  as  sublimest  art  in  the  safe 
remoteness  of  a  strange  language  and  artificial 
phrase  !  Yet  we  keep  a  repugnance  to  rheumatism 
and  other  painful  effects  when  presented  in  our 
personal  experience. 

Mrs.  Davilow  felt  Gwendolen's  new  phase  of 
indifference  keenly ;  and  as  she  drove  back  alone, 
the  brightening  morning  was  sadder  to  her  than 
before. 

Mr.  Grandcourt  called  that  day  at  Oflfendene,  but 
nobody  was  at  home. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

Festina  lente  —  celerity  should  be  contempered  with  cunctation. 
—  Sir  Thomas  Bkownk. 

Gwendolen,  we  have  seen,  passed  her  time 
abroad  in  the  new  excitement  of  gambling,  and  in 
imagining  herself  an  empress  of  luck,  having 
brought  from  her  late  experience  a  vague  impres- 
sion that  in  this  confused  world  it  signified  nothing 
what  any  one  did,  so  that  they  amused  themselves. 
We  have  seen,  too,  that  certain  persons,  mysteri- 
ously symbolized  as  Grapnell  and  Co.,  having  also 
thought  of  reigning  in  the  realm  of  luck,  and  being 
also  bent  on  amusing  themselves,  no  matter  how, 
had  brought  about  a  painful  change  in  her  family 
circumstances ;  whence  she  had  returned  home  — 
carrying  with  her,  against  her  inclination,  a  neck- 
lace which  she  had  pawned  and  some  one  else  had 
redeemed. 

While  she  was  going  back  to  England,  Grand- 
court  was  coming  to  find  her ;  coming,  that  is,  after 
his  own  manner,  —  not  in  haste  by  express  straight 
from  Diplow  to  Leubronn,  where  she  was  under- 
stood to  be  ;  but  so  entirely  without  hurry  that  he 
was  induced  by  the  presence  of  some  Eussian  ac- 
quaintances to  linger  at  Baden-Baden  and  make 
various  appointments  with  them,  which,  however, 
his  desire  to  be  at  Leubronn  ultimately  caused  him 
to  break.  Grandcourt's  passions  were  of  the  inter- 
mittent, flickering  kind :  never  flaming  out  strongly. 
But  a  great  deal  of  life  goes  on  without  strong  pas- 


212  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

sion  :  myriads  of  cravats  are  carefully  tied,  dinners 
attended,  even  speeches  made  proposing  the  health 
of  august  personages,  without  the  zest  arising  from 
a  strong  desire.  And  a  man  may  make  a  good 
appearance  in  high  social  positions,  —  may  be  sup- 
posed to  know  the  classics,  to  have  his  reserves  on 
science,  a  strong  though  repressed  opinion  on  poli- 
tics, and  all  the  sentiments  of  the  English  gentle- 
man, at  a  small  expense  of  vital  energy.  Also,  he 
may  be  obstinate  or  persistent  at  the  same  low  rate, 
and  may  even  show  sudden  impulses  which  have  a 
false  air  of  daemonic  strength  because  they  seem  in- 
explicable, though  perhaps  their  secret  lies  merely 
in  the  want  of  regulated  channels  for  the  soul  to 
move  in,  —  good  and  sufficient  ducts  of  habit  with- 
out which  our  nature  easily  turns  to  mere  ooze  and 
mud,  and  at  any  pressure  yields  nothing  but  a  spurt 
or  a  puddle. 

Grandcourt  had  not  been  altogether  displeased 
by  Gwendolen's  running  away  from  the  splendid 
chance  he  was  holding  out  to  her.  The  act  had 
some  piquancy  for  him.  He  liked  to  think  that  it 
was  due  to  resentment  of  his  careless  behaviour  in 
Cardell  Chase,  which,  when  he  came  to  consider  it, 
did  appear  rather  cool.  To  have  brought  her  so 
near  a  tender  admission,  and  then  to  have  walked 
headlong  away  from  further  opportunities  of  win- 
ning the  consent  which  he  had  made  her  under- 
stand him  to  be  asking  for,  was  enough  to  provoke 
a  girl  of  spirit ;  and  to  be  worth  his  mastering  it 
was  proper  that  she  should  have  some  spirit 
Doubtless  she  meant  him  to  follow  her,  and  it  was 
what  he  meant  too.  But  for  a  whole  week  he  took 
no  measures  towards  starting,  and  did  not  even 
inquire  where  Miss  Harleth  was  gone.     Mr.  Lush 


MEETING  STREAMS.  213 

felt  a  triumph  that  was  mingled  with  much  dis- 
trust ;  for  Grandcourt  had  said  no  word  to  him 
about  her,  and  looked  as  neutral  as  an  alligator: 
there  was  no  telling  what  might  turn  up  in  the 
slowly  churning  chances  of  his  mind.  Still  to  have 
put  off  a  decision  was  to  have  made  room  for  the 
waste  of  Grandcourt's  energy. 

The  guests  at  Diplow  felt  more  curiosity  than 
their  host.  How  was  it  that  nothing  more  was 
heard  of  Miss  Harleth  ?  Was  it  credible  that  she 
had  refused  Mr.  Grandcourt  ?  Lady  Flora  Hollis, 
a  lively  middle-aged  woman,  well  endowed  with 
curiosity,  felt  a  sudden  interest  in  making  a  round 
of  calls  with  Mrs.  Torrington,  including  the  Eec- 
tory,  Offendene,  and  Quetcham,  and  thus  not  only 
got  twice  over,  but  also  discussed  with  the  Arrow- 
points,  the  information  that  Miss  Harleth  was 
gone  to  Leubronn,  with  some  old  friends,  the  Baron 
and  Baroness  von  Langen  ;  for  the  immediate  agi- 
tation and  disappointment  of  Mrs.  Davilow  and 
the  Gascoignes  had  resolved  itself  into  a  wish  that 
Gwendolen's  disappearance  should  not  be  inter- 
preted as  anything  eccentric  or  needful  to  be  kept 
secret.  The  Sector's  mind,  indeed,  entertained  the 
possibility  that  the  marriage  was  only  a  little 
deferred,  for  Mrs.  Davilow  had  not  dared  to  tell 
him  of  the  bitter  determination  with  which  Gwen- 
dolen had  spoken.  And  in  spite  of  his  practical 
ability,  some  of  his  experience  had  petrified  into 
maxims  and  quotations.  Amaryllis  fleeing  desired 
that  her  hiding-place  should  be  known ;  and  that 
love  will  find  out  the  way  "  over  the  mountain  and 
over  the  wave  "  may  be  said  without  hyperbole  in 
this  age  of  steam.  Gwendolen,  he  conceived,  was 
an   Amaryllis   of   excellent    sense    but   coquettish 


214  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

daring;  the  question  was  whether  she  had  dared 
too  much. 

Lady  Flora,  coming  back  charged  with  news 
about  Miss  Harleth,  saw  no  good  reason  why  she 
should  not  try  whether  she  could  electrify  Mr. 
Grandcourt  by  mentioning  it  to  him  at  table ;  and 
in  doing  so  shot  a  few  hints  of  a  notion  having  got 
abroad  that  he  was  a  disappointed  adorer.  Grand- 
court  heard  with  quietude,  but  with  attention  ;  and 
the  next  day  he  ordered  Lush  to  bring  about  a 
decent  reason  for  breaking  up  the  party  at  Diplow 
by  the  end  of  another  week,  as  he  meant  to  go 
yachting  to  the  Baltic  or  somewhere,  —  it  being 
impossible  to  stay  at  Diplow  as  if  he  were  a  pris- 
oner on  parole,  with  a  set  of  people  whom  he  had 
never  wanted.  Lush  needed  no  clearer  announce- 
ment that  Grandcourt  was  going  to  Leubronn  ;  but 
he  might  go  after  the  manner  of  a  creeping  billiard- 
ball  and  stick  on  the  way.  What  Mr.  Lush  in- 
tended was  to  make  himself  indispensable  so  that 
he  might  go  too,  and  he  succeeded ;  Gwendolen's 
repulsion  for  him  being  a  fact  that  only  amused  his 
patron,  and  made  him  none  the  less  willing  to  have 
Lush  always  at  hand. 

This  was  how  it  happened  that  Grandcourt 
arrived  at  the  Czarina  on  the  fifth  day  after 
Gwendolen  had  left  Leubronn,  and  found  there  his 
uncle.  Sir  Hugo  Mallinger,  with  his  family,  includ- 
ing Deronda.  It  is  not  necessarily  a  pleasure  either 
to  the  reiguing  power  or  the  heir  presumptive  when 
their  separate  affairs  —  a  touch  of  gout,  say,  in  the 
one  and  a  touch  of  wilfulness  in  the  other  —  happen 
to  bring  them  to  the  same  spot.  Sir  Hugo  was  an 
easy-tempered  man,  tolerant  both  of  differences  and 
defects  ;  but  a  point  of  view  different  from  his  own 


MEETING  STREAMS.  215 

concerning  the  settlement  of  the  family  estates 
fretted  him  rather  more  than  if  it  had  concerned 
Church  discipline  or  the  ballot,  and  faults  were  the 
less  venial  for  belonging  to  a  person  whose  existence 
was  inconvenient  to  him.  In  no  case  could  Grand- 
court  have  been  a  nephew  after  his  own  heart ;  but 
as  the  presumptive  heir  to  the  Mallinger  estates  he 
was  the  sign  and  embodiment  of  a  chief  grievance 
in  the  baronet's  life,  —  the  want  of  a  son  to  inherit 
the  lands,  in  no  portion  of  which  had  he  himself 
more  than  a  life-interest.  For  in  the  ill-advised 
settlement  which  his  father,  Sir  Francis,  had  chosen 
to  make  by  will,  even  Diplow  with  its  modicum  of 
land  had  been  left  under  the  same  conditions  as  the 
ancient  and  wide  inheritance  of  the  two  Toppings,  — 
Diplow,  where  Sir  Hugo  had  lived  and  hunted 
through  many  a  season  in  his  younger  years,  and 
where  his  wife  and  daughters  ought  to  have  been 
able  to  retire  after  his  death. 

This  grievance  had  naturally  gathered  emphasis 
as  the  years  advanced,  and  Lady  Mallinger,  after 
having  had  three  daughters  in  quick  succession, 
had  remained  for  eight  years  till  now  that  she  was 
over  forty  without  producing  so  much  as  another 
girl ;  while  Sir  Hugo,  almost  twenty  years  older,  was 
at  a  time  of  life  when,  notwithstanding  the  fashion- 
able retardation  of  most  things  from  dinners  to 
marriages,  a  man's  hopefulness  is  apt  to  show  signs 
of  wear,  until  restored  by  second  childhood. 

In  fact,  he  had  begun  to  despair  of  a  son,  and 
this  confirmation  of  Grandcoqrt's  interest  in  the 
estates  certainly  tended  to  make  his  image  and  pre- 
sence the  more  unwelcome ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  carried  circumstances  which  disposed  Sir  Hugo 
to  take  care  that  the  relation  between  them  should 


2i6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

be  kept  as  friendly  as  possible.  It  led  bim  to  dwell 
on  a  plan  which  had  grown  up  side  by  side  with  his 
disappointment  of  an  heir;  namely,  to  try  and 
secure  Diplow  as  a  future  residence  for  Lady  Mal- 
linger  and  her  daughters,  and  keep  this  pretty  bit 
of  the  family  inheritance  for  his  own  offspring  in 
spite  of  that  disappointment.  Such  knowledge  as 
he  had  of  his  nephew's  disposition  and  affairs  en- 
couraged the  belief  that  Grandcourt  might  consent 
to  a  transaction  by  which  he  would  get  a  good  sum 
of  ready  money,  as  an  equivalent  for  his  prospective 
interest  in  the  domain  of  Diplow  and  the  moderate 
amount  of  land  attached  to  it.  If,  after  all,  the 
unhoped-for  son  should  be  born,  the  money  would 
have  been  thrown  away,  and  Grandcourt  would 
have  been  paid  for  giving  up  interests  that  had 
turned  out  good  for  nothing  ;  but  Sir  Hugo  set 
down  this  risk  as  nil,  and  of  late  years  he  had 
husbanded  his  fortune  so  well  by  the  working  of 
mines  and  the  sale  of  leases  that  he  was  prepared 
for  an  outlay. 

Here  was  an  object  that  made  him  careful  to 
avoid  any  quarrel  with  Grandcourt.  Some  years 
before,  when  he  was  making  improvements  at  the 
Abbey,  and  needed  Grandcourt's  concurrence  in  his 
felling  an  obstructive  mass  of  timber  on  the  de- 
mesne, he  had  congratulated  himself  on  finding 
that  there  was  no  active,  spite  against  him  in  his 
nephew's  peculiar  mind ;  and  nothing  had  since 
occurred  to  make  them  hate  each  other  more  than 
was  compatible  with  perfect  politeness,  or  with 
any  accommodation  that  could  be  strictly  mutual. 

Grandcourt,  on  his  side,  thought  his  uncle  a 
superfluity  and  a  bore,  and  felt  that  the  list  of 
things  in  general  would  be  improved  whenever  Sir 


MEETING  STREAMS.  217 

Hugo  came  to  be  expunged.  But  he  had  been 
made  aware  through  Lush,  always  a  useful  medium, 
of  the  baronet's  inclinations  concerning  Diplow,  and 
he  was  gratified  to  have  the  alternative  of  the  money 
in  his  mind  :  even  if  he  had  not  thought  it  in  the  least 
likely  that  he  would  choose  to  accept  it,  his  sense  of 
power  would  have  been  flattered  by  his  being  able  to 
refuse  what  Sir  Hugo  desired.  The  hinted  trans- 
action had  told  for  something  among  the  motives 
which  had  made  him  ask  for  a  year's  tenancy  of 
Diplow,  which  it  had  rather  annoyed  Sir  Hugo  to 
grant,  because  the  excellent  hunting  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood might  decide  Grandcourt  not  to  part  with 
his  chance  of  future  possession ;  a  man  who  has 
two  places,  in  one  of  which  the  hunting  is  less 
good,  naturally  desiring  a  third  where  it  is  better. 
Also,  Lush  had  thrown  out  to  Sir  Hugo  the  proba- 
bility that  Grandcourt  would  woo  and  win  Miss 
Arrowpoint,  and  in  that  case  ready  money  might 
be  less  of  a  temptation  to  him.  Hence,  on  this  un- 
expected meeting  at  Leubronn,  the  baronet  felt  much 
curiosity  to  know  how  things  had  been  going  on  at 
Diplow,  was  bent  on  being  as  civil  as  possible  to  his 
nephew,  and  looked  forward  to  some  private  chat 
with  Lush. 

Between  Deronda  and  Grandcourt  there  was  a 
more  faintly  marked  but  peculiar  relation,  depend- 
ing on  circumstances  which  have  yet  to  be  made 
known.  But  on  no  side  was  there  any  sign  of 
suppressed  chagrin  on  the  first  meeting  at  the  tahle 
d'  hote,  an  hour  after  Grandcourt's  arrival ;  and  when 
the  quartet  of  gentlemen  afterwards  met  on  the 
terrace,  without  Lady  Mallinger,  they  moved  off 
together  to  saunter  through  the  rooms,  Sir  Hugo 
saying  as  they  entered  the  large  saal,  — 


liS  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"Did  you  play  much  at  Baden,  Grandcourt?" 

"  No ;  I  looked  on  and  betted  a  little  with  some 
Russians  there." 

"  Had  you  luck  ? " 

"  What  did  I  win,  Lush  ? " 

"You  brought  away  about  two  hundred,"  said 
Lush. 

"  You  are  not  here  for  the  sake  of  the  play,  then  ?" 
said  Sir  Hugo. 

"No;  I  don't  care  about  play  now.  It's  a  con- 
founded strain,"  said  Grandcourt,  whose  diamond 
ring  and  demeanour,  as  he  moved  along  playing 
slightly  with  his  whisker,  were  being  a  good  deal 
stared  at  by  rouged  foreigners  interested  in  a  new 
milord. 

"  The  fact  is,  somebody  should  invent  a  mill  to  do 
amusements  for  you,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Sir  Hugo, 
"  as  the  Tartars  get  their  praying  done.  But  I  agree 
with  you;  I  never  cared  for  play.  It's  monoto- 
nous, —  knits  the  brain  up  into  meshes.  And  it 
knocks  me  up  to  watch  it  now.  I  suppose  one 
gets  poisoned  with  the  bad  air.  I  never  stay  here 
more  than  ten  minutes.  But  where 's  your  gam- 
bling beauty,  Deronda  ?    Have  you  seen  her  lately  ? " 

"  She 's  gone,"  said  Deronda,  curtly. 

"  An  uncommonly  fine  girl,  a  perfect  Diana,"  said 
Sir  Hugo,  turning  to  Grandcourt  again.  "Really 
worth  a  little  straining  to  look  at  her.  I  saw  her 
winning,  and  she  took  it  as  coolly  as  if  she  had 
known  it  all  beforehand.  The  same  day  Deronda 
happened  to  see  her  losing  like  wildfire,  and  she 
bore  it  with  immense  pluck.  I  suppose  she  was 
cleaned  out,  or  was  wise  enough  to  stop  in  time. 
How  do  you  know  she 's  gone  ? " 

"Oh,  by  the  Visitor-list,"  said  Deronda,  with  a 


MEETING  STREAMS.  219 

scarcely  perceptible  shrug.  "  Vandernoodt  told  me 
her  name  was  Harleth,  and  she  was  with  the  Baron 
and  Baroness  von  Langen.  I  saw  by  the  list  that 
Miss  Harleth  was  no  longer  there." 

This  held  no  further  information  for  Lush  than 
that  Gwendolen  had  been  gambling.  He  had 
already  looked  at  the  list,  and  ascertained  that 
Gwendolen  had  gone,  but  he  had  no  intention  of 
thrusting  this  knowledge  on  Grandcourt  before  he 
asked  for  it;  and  he  had  not  asked,  finding  it 
enough  to  believe  that  the  object  of  search  would 
turn  up  somewhere  or  other. 

But  now  Grandcourt  had  heard  what  was  rather 
piquant,  and  not  a  word  about  Miss  Harleth  had 
been  missed  by  him.  After  a  moment's  pause  he 
said  to  Deronda, — 

"  Do  you  know  those  people,  —  the  Langens  ? " 

"  I  have  talked  with  them  a  little  since  Miss 
Harleth  went  away.  I  knew  nothing  of  them 
before." 

"  Where  is  she  gone  —  do  you  know  ? " 

"She  is  gone  home,"  said  Deronda,  coldly,  as  if 
he  wished  to  say  no  more.  But  then,  from  a  fresh 
impulse,  he  turned  to  look  markedly  at  Grandcourt, 
and  added,  "  But  it  is  possible  you  know  her.  Her 
home  is  not  far  from  Diplow :  Offendene,  near  Wan- 
chester." 

Deronda,  turning  to  look  straight  at  Grandcourt, 
who  was  on  his  left  hand,  might  have  been  a  sub- 
ject for  those  old  painters  who  liked  contrasts  of 
temperament.  There  was  a  calm  intensity  of  life 
and  richness  of  tint  in  his  face  that  on  a  sudden 
gaze  from  him  was  rather  startling,  and  often  made 
him  seem  to  have  spoken,  so  that  servants  and  offi- 
cials asked  him  automatically,  "  What  did  you  say. 


220  DANIEL  DERONDA.      - 

sir?"  when  he  had  heen  quite  silent.  Grandcourt 
himself  felt  an  irritation,  which  he  did  not  show 
except  hy  a  slight  movement  of  the  eyelids,  at 
Deronda's  turning  round  on  him  when  he  was  not 
asked  to  do  more  than  speak.  But  he  answered, 
with  his  usual  drawl,  "Yes,  I  know  her,"  and 
paused  with  his  shoulder  towards  Deronda,  to  look 
at  the  gambling. 

"  What  of  her,  eh  ? "  asked  Sir  Hugo  of  Lush,  as 
the  three  moved  on  a  little  way.  "  She  must  be 
a  new-comer  at  Offendene.  Old  Blenny  lived  there 
after  the  dowager  died." 

"  A  little  too  much  of  her,"  said  Lush,  in  a  low, 
significant  tone ;  not  sorry  to  let  Sir  Hugo  know 
the  state  of  affairs. 

"  Why  ?  how  ? "  said  the  baronet.  They  all  moved 
out  of  the  salon  into  a  more  airy  promenade. 

"He  has  been  on  tlie  brink  of  marrying  her," 
Lush  went  on.  "But  I  hope  it's  off  now.  She's 
a  niece  of  the  clergyman  —  Gascoigne  —  at  Penni- 
cote.  Her  mother  is  a  widow  with  a  brood  of 
daughters.  This  girl  will  have  nothing,  and  is  as 
dangerous  as  gunpowder.  It  would  be  a  foolish 
marriage.  But  she  has  taken  a  freak  against  him, 
for  she  ran  off  here  without  notice,  when  he  had 
agreed  to  call  the  next  day.  The  fact  is,  he  *s  here 
after  her;  but  he  was  in  no  great  hurry,  and  be- 
tw(ien  his  caprice  and  hers  they  are  likely  enough 
not  to  get  together  again.  But  of  course  he  has 
lost  his  chance  with  the  heiress." 

Grandcourt  joining  them  said,  "Wliat  a  beastly 
den  this  is  !  —  a  worse  hole  than  Baden.  I  shall  go 
back  to  the  hotel." 

When  Sir  Hugo  and  Deronda  were  alone,  the 
baronet  began,  — 


MEETING  STREAMS.  221 

"  Eather  a  pretty  story.  That  girl  has  something 
in  her.  She  must  be  worth  running  after,  —  has  de 
Viniprevu.  I  think  her  appearance  on  the  scene 
has  bettered  my  chance  of  getting  Diplow,  whether 
the  marriage  comes  off  or  not." 

"I  should  hope  a  marriage  like  that  would  not 
come  off,"  said  Deronda,  in  a  tone  of  disgust. 

"What!  are  you  a  little  touched  with  the  sub- 
lime lash  ? "  said  Sir  Hugo,  putting  up  his  glasses 
to  help  his  short  sight  in  looking  at  his  companion. 
"  Are  you  inclined  to  run  after  her  ? " 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Deronda,  "  I  should  rather 
be  inclined  to  run  away  from  her." 

"  Why,  you  would  easiFy  cut  out  Grandcourt.  A 
girl  with  her  spirit  would  think  you  the  finer  match 
of  the  two,"  said  Sir  Hugo,  who  often  tried  Deronda's 
patience  by  finding  a  joke  in  impossible  advice.  (A 
difference  of  taste  in  jokes  is  a  great  strain  on  the 
affections.) 

"  I  suppose  pedigree  and  land  belong  to  a  fine 
match,"  said  Deronda,  coldly. 

"  The  best  horse  will  win  in  spite  of  pedigree, 
my  boy.  You  remember  Napoleon's  mot,  —  Je  suis 
un  ancetre"  said  Sir  Hugo,  who  habitually  under- 
valued birth,  as  men  after  dining  well  often  agree 
that  the  good  of  life  is  distributed  with  wonderful 
equality. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  want  to  be  an  ancestor," 
said  Deronda.  "It  doesn't  seem  to  me  the  rarest 
sort  of  origination." 

"  You  won't  run  after  the  pretty  gambler,  then  ? " 
said  Sir  Hugo,  putting  down  his  glasses. 

"  Decidedly  not." 

This  answer  was  perfectly  truthful ;  nevertheless 
it  had  passed  through  Deronda's  mind  that  under 


222  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

other  circumstances  he  should  have  given  way  to 
the  interest  this  girl  had  raised  in  him,  and  tried 
to  know  more  of  her.  But  his  history  had  given 
him  a  stronger  bias  in  another  direction.  He  felt 
himself  in  no  sense  free. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

"  Men,  like  planets,  have  both  a  visible  and  an  invisible  history. 
The  astronomer  threads  the  darkness  with  strict  deduction,  ac- 
counting so  for  every  visible  arc  in  the  wanderer's  orbit ;  and  the 
narrator  of  human  actions,  if  he  did  his  work  with  the  same  com- 
pleteness, would  have  to  thread  the  hidden  pathways  of  feeling  and 
thought  which  lead  up  to  every  moment  of  action,  and  to  those 
moments  of  intense  suffering  which  take  the  quality  of  action,  — 
like  the  cry  of  Prometheus,  whose  chained  anguish  seems  a  greater 
energy  than  the  sea  and  sky  he  invokes  and  the  deity  he  defies." 

Deronda's  circumstances,  indeed,  had  been  excep- 
tional. One  moment  had  been  burnt  into  his  life 
as  its  chief  epoch,  —  a  moment  full  of  July  sunshine 
and  large  pink  roses  shedding  their  last  petals  on 
a  grassy  court  enclosed  on  three  sides  by  a  Gothic 
cloister.  Imagine  him  in  such  a  scene :  a  boy  of 
thirteen,  stretched  prone  on  the  grass  where  it  was 
in  shadow,  his  curly  head  propped  on  his  arms  over 
a  book,  while  his  tutor,  also  reading,  sat  on  a  camp- 
stool  under  shelter.  Deronda's  book  was  Sismondi's 
History  of  the  Italian  Eepublics :  the  lad  had  a 
passion  for  history,  eager  to  know  how  time  had 
been  filled  up  since  the  Flood,  and  how  things  were 
carried  on  in  the  dull  periods.  Suddenly  he  let  down 
his  left  arm  and  looked  at  his  tutor,  saying  in  purest 
boyish  tones, — 

"  Mr.  Fraser,  how  was  it  that  the  popes  and  car- 
dinals always  had  so  many  nephews  ? " 

The  tutor,  an  able  young  Scotchman  who  acted 
as   Sir   Hugo   Mallinger's  secretary,  roused  rather 


224  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

unwillingly  from  his  political  economy,  answered 
with  the  clear-cut,  emphatic  chant  which  makes  a 
truth  doubly  telling  in  Scotch  utterance,  — 

"  Their  own  children  were  called  nephews." 

"  Why  ? "  said  Deronda. 

"  It  was  just  for  the  propriety  of  the  thing ; 
because,  as  you  know  very  well,  priests  don't  marry, 
and  the  children  were  illegitimate." 

Mr.  Fraser,  thrusting  out  his  lower  lip  and  making 
his  chant  of  the  last  word  the  more  emphatic  for  a 
little  impatience  at  being  interrupted,  had  already 
turned  his  eyes  on  his  book  again,  while  Deronda, 
as  if  something  had  stung  him,  started  up  in  a 
sitting  attitude  with  his  back  to  the  tutor. 

He  had  always  called  Sir  Hugo  Mallinger  his 
uncle,  and  when  it  once  occurred  to  him  to  ask 
about  his  father  and  mother,  the  baronet  had 
answered,  "  You  lost  your  father  and  mother  when 
you  were  quite  a  little  one ;  that  is  why  I  take 
care  of  you."  Daniel,  then  straining  to  discern 
something  in  that  early  twilight,  had  a  dim  sense 
of  having  been  kissed  very  much,  and  surrounded 
by  thin,  cloudy,  scented  drapery,  till  his  fingers 
caught  in  something  hard,  which  hurt  him,  and 
he  began  to  cry.  Every  other  memory  he  had  was 
of  the  little  world  in  which  he  still  lived.  And  at 
that  time  he  did  not  mind  about  learning  more, 
for  he  was  too  fond  of  Sir  Hugo  to  be  sorry  for 
the  loss  of  unknown  parents.  Life  was  very  delight- 
ful to  the  lad,  with  an  uncle  who  was  always  indul- 
gent and  cheerful,  —  a  fine  man  in  the  bright  noon 
of  life,  whom  Daniel  thought  absolutely  perfect, 
and  whose  place  was  one  of  the  finest  in  England, 
at  once  historical,  romantic,  and  home-like :  a  pictu- 
resque architectural  outgrowth  from  an  abbey,  which 


MEETING  STREAMS.  225 

had  still  remnants  of  the  old  monastic  trunk.  Dip- 
low  lay  in  another  county,  and  was  a  comparatively 
landless  place  which  had  come  into  the  family  from 
a  rich  lawyer  on  the  female  side  who  wore  the  per- 
ruque  of  the  Eestoration;  whereas  the  Mallingers 
had  the  grant  of  Monk's  Topping,  under  Henry  the 
Eighth,  and  ages  before  had  held  the  neighbouring 
lands  of  King's  Topping,  tracing  indeed  their  origin 
to  a  certain  Hugues  le  Malingre,  who  came  in  with 
the  Conqueror,  —  and  also  apparently  with  a  sickly 
complexion  which  had  been  happily  corrected  in  his 
descendants.  Two  rows  of  these  descendants.,  direct 
and  collateral,  females  of  the  male  line,  and  males 
of  the  female,  looked  down  in  the  gallery  over  the 
cloisters  on  the  nephew  Daniel  as  he  walked  there ; 
men  in  armour  with  pointed  beards  and  arched  eye- 
brows, pinched  ladies  in  hoops  and  ruffs  with  no 
face  to  speak  of ;  grave-looking  men  in  black  velvet 
and  stuffed  hips,  and  fair,  frightened  women  hold- 
ing little  boys  by  the  hand ;  smiling  politicians  in 
magnificent  perruques,  and  ladies  of  the  prize- 
animal  kind,  with  rose-bud  mouths  and  full  eyelids, 
according  to  Lely  ;  then  a  generation  whose  faces 
were  revised  and  embellished  in  the  taste  of  Knel- 
ler;  and  so  on  through  refined  editions  of  the 
family  types  in  the  time  of  Eeynolds  and  Eomney, 
till  the  line  ended  with  Sir  Hugo  and  his  younger 
brother  Henleigh.  This  last  had  married  Miss  Grand- 
court,  and  taken  her  name  along  with  her  estates, 
thus  making  a  junction  between  two  equally  old 
families,  impaling  the  three  Saracens'  heads  proper 
and  three  bezants  of  the  one  with  the  tower  and 
falcons  argent  of  the  other,  and,  as  it  happened, 
uniting  their  highest  advantages  in  the  prospects  of 
that  Henleigh  Mallinger  Grandcourt  who  is  at  present 

VOL.  I.  — 15 


226  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

more  of  an  acquaintance  to  us  than  either  Sir  Hugo 
or  his  nephew  Daniel  Deronda. 

In  Sir  Hugo's  youthful  portrait  with  rolled  collar 
and  high  cravat,  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  had  done 
justice  to  the  agreeable  alacrity  of  expression  and 
sanguine  temperament  still  to  be  seen  in  the  original, 
but  had  done  something  more  than  justice  in  slightly 
lengthening  the  nose,  which  was  in  reality  shorter 
than  might  have  been  expected  in  a  Mallinger. 
Happily  the  appropriate  nose  of  the  family  reap- 
peared in  his  younger  brother,  and  was  to  be  seen 
in  all  its  refined  regularity  in  his  nephew  Mallinger 
Grandcourt.  But  in  the  nephew  Daniel  Deronda  the 
family  faces  of  various  types,  seen  on  the  walls  of 
the  gallery,  found  no  reflex.  Still  he  was  handsomer 
than  any  of  them,  and  when  he  was  thirteen  might 
have  served  as  model  for  any  painter  who  wanted 
to  image  the  most  memorable  of  boys  :  you  could 
hardly  have  seen  his  face  thoroughly  meeting  yours 
without  believing  that  human  creatures  had  done 
nobly  in  times  past,  and  might  do  more  nobly  in 
time  to  come.  The  finest  childlike  faces  have  this 
consecrating  power,  and  make  us  shudder  anew  at 
all  the  grossness  and  basely  wrought  griefs  of  the 
world,  lest  they  should  enter  here  and  defile. 

But  at  this  moment  on  the  grass  among  the  rose- 
petals,  Daniel  Deronda  was  making  a  first  acquaint- 
ance with  those  griefs.  A  new  idea  had  entered 
his  mind,  and  was  beginning  to  change  the  aspect 
of  his  habitual  feelings  as  happy  careless  voyagers 
are  changed  when  the  sky  suddenly  threatens  and  the 
thought  of  danger  arises.  He  sat  perfectly  still  with 
his  back  to  the  tutor,  while  his  face  expressed  rapid 
inward  transition.  The  deep  blush,  which  had  come 
when  he  first  started  up,  gradually  subsided;  but 


MEETING  STREAMS.  227 

his  features  kept  that  indescribable  look  of  subdued 
activity  which  often  accompanies  a  new  mental  sur- 
vey of  familiar  facts.  He  had  not  lived  with  other 
boys,  and  his  mind  showed  the  same  blending  of* 
child's  ignorance  with  surprising  knowledge  which 
is  oftener  seen  in  bright  girls.  Having  read  Shake- 
speare as  well  as  a  great  deal  of  history,  he  could 
have  talked  with  the  wisdom  of  a  bookish  child 
about  men  who  were  born  out  of  wedlock  and  were 
held  unfortunate  in  consequence,  being  under  dis- 
advantages which  required  them  to  be  a  sort  of 
heroes  if  they  were  to  work  themselves  up  to  an 
equal  standing  with  their  legally  born  brothers. 
But  he  had  never  brought  such  knowledge  into  any 
association  with  his  own  lot,  which  had  been  too 
easy  for  him  ever  to  think  about  it,  —  until  this 
moment  when  there  had  darted  into  his  mind,  with 
the  magic  of  quick  comparison,  the  possibility  that 
here  was  the  secret  of  his  own  birth,  and  that  the 
man  whom  he  called  uncle  was  really  his  father. 
Some  children,  even  younger  than  Daniel,  have 
known  the  first  arrival  of  care,  like  an  ominous 
irremovable  guest  in  their  tender  lives,  on  the  dis- 
covery that  their  parents,  whom  they  had  imagined 
able  to  buy  everything,  were  poor  and  in  hard  money 
troubles.  Daniel  felt  the  presence  of  a  new  guest 
who  seemed  to  come  with  an  enigmatic  veiled  face, 
and  to  carry  dimly  conjectured,  dreaded  revelations. 
The  ardour  which  he  had  given  to  the  imaginary 
world  in  his  books  suddenly  rushed  towards  his 
own  history  and  spent  its  pictorial  energy  there, 
explaining  what  he  knew,  representing  the  un- 
known. The  uncle  whom  he  loved  very  dearly 
took  the  aspect  of  a  father  who  held  secrets  about 
him,  —  who  had  done  him  a  wrong,  —  yes,  a  wrong  i 


228  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

and  what  had  become  of  his  mother,  from  whom  he 
must  have  been  taken  away  ?  —  Secrets  about  which 
he,  Daniel,  could  never  inquire ;  for  to  speak  or  be 
spoken  to  about  these  new  thoughts  seemed  like 
falling  flakes  of  fire  to  his  imagination.  Those  who 
have  known  an  impassioned  childhood  will  under- 
stand this  dread  of  utterance  about  any  shame  con- 
nected with  their  parents.  The  impetuous  advent 
of  new  images  took  possession  of  him  with  the  force 
of  fact  for  the  first  time  told,  and  left  him  no  imme- 
diate power  for  the  reflection  that  he  might  be  trem- 
bling at  a  fiction  of  his  own.  The  terrible  sense  of 
collision  between  a  strong  rush  of  feeling  and  the 
dread  of  its  betrayal  found  relief  at  length  in  big 
slow  tears,  which  fell  without  restraint  until  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Fraser  was  heard  saying,  — 

"  Daniel,  do  you  see  that  you  are  sitting  on  the 
bent  pages  of  your  book  ? " 

.  Daniel  immediately  moved  the  book  without  turn- 
ing round,  and  after  holding  it  before  him  for  an 
instant,  rose  with  it  and  walked  away  into  the  open 
grounds,  where  he  could  dry  his  tears  unobserved. 
The  first  shock  of  suggestion  past,  he  could  remem- 
ber that  he  had  no  certainty  how  things  really  had 
been,  and  that  he  had  been  making  conjectures  about 
his  own  history,  as  he  had  often  made  stories  about 
Pericles  or  Columbus,  just  to  fill  up  the  blanks  be- 
fore they  became  famous.  Only  there  came  back 
certain  facts  which  had  an  obstinate  reality,  —  al- 
most like  the  fragments  of  a  bridge,  telling  you 
unmistakably  how  the  arches  lay.  And  again  there 
came  a  mood  in  which  his  conjectures  seemed  like 
a  doubt  of  religion,  to  be  banished  as  an  offence,  and 
a  mean  prying  after  what  he  was  not  meant  to  know ; 
for  there  was  hardly  a  delicacy  of  feeling  this  lad 


MEETING  STREAMS.  229 

was  not  capable  of.  But  the  summing  up  of  all  his 
fluctuating  experience  at  this  epoch  was,  that  a 
secret  impression  had  come  to  him  which  had  given, 
him  something  like  a  new  sense  in  relation  to  all 
the  elements  of  his  life.  And  the  idea  that  others 
probably  knew  things  concerning  him  which  they 
did  not  choose  to  mention,  and  which  he  would  not 
have  had  them  mention,  set  up  in  him  a  premature 
reserve  which  helped  to  intensify  his  inward  experi- 
ence. His  ears  were  open  now  to  words  which 
before  that  July  day  would  have  passed  by  him 
unnoted;  and  round  every  trivial  incident  which 
imagination  could  connect  with  his  suspicions,  a 
newly  roused  set  of  feelings  were  ready  to  cluster 
themselves. 

One  such  incident  a  month  later  wrought  itself 
deeply  into  his  life.  Daniel  had  not  only  one  of 
those  thrilling  boy  voices  which  seem  to  bring  an 
idyllic  heaven  and  earth  before  our  eyes,  but  a  fine 
musical  instinct,  and  had  early  made  out  accompani- 
ments for  himself  on  the  piano,  while  he  sang  from 
memory.  Since  then  he  had  had  some  teaching  ;  and 
Sir  Hugo,  who  delighted  in  the  boy,  used  to  ask  for 
his  music  in  the  presence  of  guests.  One  morning 
after  he  had  been  singing  "  Sweet  Echo  "  before  a 
small  party  of  gentlemen  whom  the  rain  had  kept  in 
the  house,  the  baronet,  passing  from  a  smiling  re- 
mark to  his  next  neighbour,  said,  — 

"  Come  here,  Dan  ! " 

The  boy  came  forward  with  unusual  reluctance. 
He  wore  an  embroidered  holland  blouse  which  set 
off  the  rich  colouring  of  his  head  and  throat ;  and 
the  resistant  gravity  about  his  mouth  and  eyes  as 
he  was  being  smiled  upon,  made  their  beauty  the 
more  impressive.     Every  one  was  admiring  him. 


230  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  being  a  great  singer  ? 
Should  you  like  to  be  adored  by  the  world  and  take 
the  house  by  storm,  like  Mario  and  Tamberlik  ?" 

Daniel  reddened  instantaneously,  but  there  was 
a  just  perceptible  interval  before  he  answered  with 
angry  decision,  — 

"  No  ;  I  should  hate  it !  " 

"  Well,  well,  well !  "  said  Sir  Hugo,  with  sur- 
prised kindliness  intended  to  be  soothing.  But 
Daniel  turned  away  quickly,  left  the  room,  and 
going  to  his  own  chamber  threw  himself  on  the 
broad  window-sill,  which  was  a  favourite  retreat 
of  his  when  he  had  nothing  particular  to  do.  Here 
he  could  see  the  rain  gradually  subsiding  with  gleams 
through  the  parting  clouds  which  lit  up  a  great 
reach  of  the  park,  wliere  the  old  oaks  stood  apart 
from  each  other,  and  the  bordering  wood  was  pierced 
with  a  green  glade  which  met  the  eastern  sky. 
This  was  a  scene  which  had  always  been  part  of 
his  home,  —  part  of  the  dignified  ease  which  had 
been  a  matter  of  course  in  his  life.  And  his  ardent 
clinging  nature  had  appropriated  it  all  with  affection. 
He  knew  a  great  deal  of  what  it  was  to  be  a  gentle- 
man by  inheritance,  and  without  thinking  much 
about  himself,  —  for  he  was  a  boy  of  active  per- 
ceptions and  easily  forgot  his  own  existence  in  that  of 
Robert  Bruce,  —  he  had  never  supposed  that  he  could 
be  shut  out  from  such  a  lot,  or  have  a  very  different 
part  in  the  world  from  that  of  the  uncle  who  petted 
him.  It  is  possible  (though  not  greatly  believed 
in  at  present)  to  be  fond  of  poverty  and  take  it  for 
a  bride,  to  prefer  scoured  deal,  red  quarries,  and 
whitewash  for  one's  private  surroundings,  to  delight 
in  no  splendour  but  what  has  open  doors  for  the 
whole  nation,  and  to  glory  in  having  no  privilege 


MEETING  STREAMS.  231 

except  such  as  nature  insists  on ;  and  noblemen 
have  been  known  to  run  away  from  elaborate  ease 
and  the  option  of  idleness,  that  they  might  bind 
themselves  for  small  pay  to  hard-handed  labour. 
But  Daniel's  tastes  were  altogether  in  keeping  with 
his  nurture  :  his  disposition  was  one  in  which  every- 
day scenes  and  habits  beget  not  ennui  or  rebellion, 
but  delight,  affection,  aptitudes ;  and  now  the  lad 
had  been  stung  to  the  quick  by  the  idea  that  his 
uncle  —  perhaps  his  father  —  thought  of  a  career 
for  him  which  was  totally  unlike  his  own,  and 
which  he  knew  very  well  was  not  thought  of  among 
possible  destinations  for  the  sons  of  English  gentle- 
men. He  had  often  stayed  in  London  with  Sir 
Hugo,  who  to  indulge  the  boy's  ear  had  carried  him 
to  the  opera  to  hear  the  great  tenors,  so  that  the 
image  of  a  singer  taking  the  house  by  storm  was 
very  vivid  to  him  ;  but  now,  spite  of  his  musical 
gift,  he  set  himself  bitterly  against  the  notion  of 
being  dressed  up  to  sing  before  all  those  fine  people 
who  would  not  care  about  him  except  as  a  wonder- 
ful toy.  That  Sir  Hugo  should  have  thought  of  him 
in  that  position  for  a  moment,  seemed  to  Daniel  an 
unmistakable  proof  that  there  was  something  about 
his  birth  which  threw  him  out  from  the  class  of 
gentlemen  to  which  the  baronet  belonged.  Would 
it  ever  be  mentioned  to  him  ?  Would  the  time 
come  when  his  uncle  would  tell  him  everything  ? 
He  shrank  from  the  prospect;  in  his  imagination 
he  preferred  ignorance.  If  his  father  had  been 
wicked,  —  Daniel  inwardly  used  strong  words,  for 
he  was  feeling  the  injury  done  him  as  a  maimed  boy 
feels  the  crushed  limb  which  for  others  is  merely 
reckoned  in  an  average  of  accidents,  —  if  his  father 
had  done  any  wrong,  he  wished  it  might  never  be 


232  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

spoken  of  to  him  :  it  was  already  a  cutting  thought 
that  such  knowledge  might  be  in  other  minds. 
Was  it  in  Mr.  Fraser's  ?  Probably  not,  else  he  would 
not  have  spoken  in  that  way  about  the  pope's 
nephews  ?  Daniel  fancied,  as  older  people  do,  that 
every  one  else's  consciousness  was  as  active  as  his 
own  on  a  matter  which  was  vital  to  him.  Did  Tur- 
vey  the  valet  know  ?  —  and  old  Mrs.  French  the 
housekeeper  ?  —  and  Banks  the  bailifif,  with  whom 
he  had  ridden  about  the  farms  on  his  pony  ?  And 
now  there  came  back  the  recollection  of  a  day  some 
years  before  when  he  was  drinking  Mrs.  Banks's 
whey,  and  Banks  said  to  his  wife  with  a  wink  and 
a  cunning  laugh,  "He  features  the  mother,  eh?" 
At  that  time  little  Daniel  had  merely  thought  that 
Banks  made  a  silly  face,  as  the  common  farming 
men  often  did,  —  laughing  at  what  was  not  laugh- 
able ;  and  he  rather  resented  being  winked  at  and 
talked  of  as  if  he  did  not  understand  everything. 
But  now  that  small  incident  became  information : 
it  was  to  be  reasoned  on.  How  could  he  be  like 
his  mother  and  not  like  his  father?  His  mother 
must  have  been  a  Mallinger,  if  Sir  Hugo  were  his 
uncle.  But  no !  His  father  might  have  been  Sir 
Hugo's  brother  and  have  changed  his  name,  as  Mr. 
Henleigh  Mallinger  did  when  he  married  Miss 
Grandcourt.  But  then  why  had  he  never  heard  Sir 
Hugo  speak  of  his  brother  Deronda,  as  he  spoke  of 
his  brother  Grandcourt?  Daniel  had  never  before 
cared  about  the  family  tree,  —  only  about  that  ances- 
tor who  had  killed  three  Saracens  in  one  encounter. 
But  now  his  mind  turned  to  a  cabinet  of  estate- 
maps  in  the  library,  where  he  had  once  seen  an  illu- 
minated parchment  hanging  out,  that  Sir  Hugo  said 
was  the  family  tree.     The  phrase  was  new  and  odd 


MEETING  STREAMS.  233 

to  him,  —  he  was  a  little  fellow  then,  hardly  more 
than  half  his  present  age,  —  and  he  gave  it  no  pre- 
cise meaning.  He  knew  more  now,  and  wished  that 
he  could  examine  that  parchment.  He  imagined 
that  the  cabinet  was  always  locked,  and  longed  to 
try  it.  But  here  he  checked  himself.  He  might 
be  seen;  and  he  would  never  bring  himself  near 
even  a  silent  admission  of  the  sore  that  had  opened 
in  him. 

It  is  in  such  experiences  of  boy  or  girlhood,  while 
elders  are  debating  whether  most  education  lies  in 
science  or  literature,  that  the  main  lines  of  charac- 
ter are  often  laid  down.  If  Daniel  had  been  of  a 
less  ardently  affectionate  nature,  the  reserve  about 
himself  and  the  supposition  that  others  had  some- 
thing to  his  disadvantage  in  their  minds,  might  have 
turned  into  a  hard,  proud  antagonism.  But  inborn 
lovingness  was  strong  enough  to  keep  itself  level 
with  resentment.  There  was  hardly  any  creature 
in  his  habitual  world  that  he  was  not  fond  of ;  teas- 
ing them  occasionally,  of  course,  —  all  except  his 
uncle,  or  "  Nunc,"  as  Sir  Hugo  had  taught  him  to 
say ;  for  the  baronet  was  the  reverse  of  a  straight- 
laced  man,  and  left  his  dignity  to  take  care  of 
itself.  Him  Daniel  loved  in  that  deep-rooted  filial 
way  which  makes  children  always  the  happier  for 
being  in  the  same  room  with  father  or  mother, 
though  their  occupations  may  be  quite  apart.  Sir 
Hugo's  watch-chain  and  seals,  his  handwriting,  his 
mode  of  smoking  and  of  talking  to  his  dogs  and 
horses,  had  all  a  rightness  and  charm  about  them  to 
the  boy  which  went  along  with  the  happiness  of 
morning  and  breakfast-time.  That  Sir  Hugo  had 
always  been  a  Whig,  made  Tories  and  Eadicals 
equally  opponents  of  the  truest  and  best ;  and  the 


234  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

books  he  had  written  were  all  seen  under  the  same 
consecration  of  loving  belief  which  dififerenced  what 
was  his  from  what  was  not  his,  in  spite  of  general 
resemblance.  Those  writings  were  various,  from 
volumes  of  travel  in  the  brilliant  style,  to  articles 
on  things  in  general,  and  pamphlets  on  political 
crises  ;  but  to  Daniel  they  were  alike  in  having  an 
unquestionable  rightness  by  which  other  people's 
information  could  be  tested. 

Who  cannot  imagine  the  bitterness  of  a  first  sus- 
picion that  something  in  this  object  of  complete 
love  was  not  quite  right  ?  Children  demand  that 
their  heroes  should  be  fieckless,  and  easily  believe 
them  so :  perhaps  a  first  discovery  to  the  contrary 
is  hardly  a  less  revolutionary  shock  to  a  passionate 
child  than  the  threatened  downfall  of  habitual 
beliefs  which  makes  the  world  seem  to  totter  for  us 
in  maturer  life. 

But  some  time  after  this  renewal  of  Daniel's  agi- 
tation it  appeared  that  Sir  Hugo  must  have  been 
making  a  merely  playful  experiment  in  his  question 
about  the  singing.  He  sent  for  Daniel  into  the 
library,  and  looking  up  from  his  writing  as  the  boy 
entered,  threw  himself  sideways  in  his  arm-chair. 
"  Ah,  Dan  !  "  he  said  kindly,  drawing  one  of  the  old 
embroidered  stools  close  to  him.  "  Come  and  sit 
down  here." 

Daniel  obeyed,  and  Sir  Hugo  put  a  gentle  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  looking  at  him  affectionately. 

"  What  is  it,  my  boy  ?  Have  you  heard  anything 
that  has  put  you  out  of  spirits  lately  ? " 

Daniel  was  determined  not  to  let  the  tears  come, 
but  he  could  not  speak. 

"  All  changes  are  painful  when  people  have  been 
happy,  you  know,"  said  Sir  Hugo,  lifting  his  hand 


MEETING  STREAMS.  235 

from  the  boy's  shoulder  to  his  dark  curls  and  rub- 
bing them  gently.  "  You  can't  be  educated  exactly 
as  I  wish  you  to  be  without  our  parting.  And  I 
think  you  will  find  a  great  deal  to  like  at  school." 

This  was  not  what  Daniel  expected,  and  was  so 
far  a  re]ief,  which  gave  him  spirit  to  answer,  — 

"  Am  I  to  go  to  school  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  mean  you  to  go  to  Eton.  I  wish  you  to 
have  the  education  of  an  English  gentleman ;  and 
for  that  it  is  necessary  that  you  should  go  to  a  pub- 
lic school  in  preparation  for  the  university :  Cambridge 
I  mean  you  to  go  to ;  it  was  my  own  university, " 

Daniel's  colour  came  and  went. 

"  What  do  you  say,  sirrah  ? "  said  Sir.  Hugo, 
smiling. 

"  I  should  like  to  be  a  gentleman,"  said  Daniel, 
with  firm  distinctness,  "  and  go  to  school,  if  that  is 
what  a  gentleman's  son  must  do." 

Sir  Hugo  watched  him  silently  for  a  few  moments, 
thinking  he  understood  now  why  the  lad  had 
seemed  angry  at  the  notion  of  becoming  a  singer. 
Then  he  said  tenderly,  — 

"  And  so  you  won't  mind  about  leaving  your  old 
Nunc?" 

"  Yes,  I  shall,"  said  Daniel,  clasping  Sir  Hugo's 
caressing  arm  with  both  his  hands.  "  But  sha'n't  I 
come  home  and  be  with  you  in  the  holidays  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  generally,"  said  Sir  Hugo.  "  But  now 
I  mean  you  to  go  at  once  to  a  new  tutor,  to  break 
the  change  for  you  before  you  go  to  Eton." 

After  this  interview  Daniel's  spirit  rose  again. 
He  was  meant  to  be  a  gentleman,  and  in  some 
unaccountable  way  it  might  be  that  his  conjectures 
were  all  wrong.  The  very  keenness  of  the  lad 
taught  him  to  find  comfort  in  his  ignorance.     While 


236  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

he  was  busying  his  mind  in  the  construction  of  pos- 
sibilities, it  became  plain  to  him  that  there  must  be 
possibilities  of  which  he  knew  nothing.  He  left  off 
brooding,  young  joy  and  the  spirit  of  adventure  not 
being  easily  quenched  within  him,  and  in  the  inter- 
val before  his  going  away  he  sang  about  the  house, 
danced  among  the  old  servants,  making  them  part- 
ing gifts,  and  insisted  many  times  to  the  groom  on 
the  care  that  was  to  be  taken  of  the  black  pony. 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  know  much  less  than  the 
other  boys,  Mr.  Fraser  ? "  said  Daniel.  It  was  his 
bent  to  think  that  every  stranger  would  be  surprised 
at  his  ignorance. 

"  There  are  dunces  to  be  found  everywhere,"  said 
the  judicious  Fraser.  "You'll  not  be  the  biggest; 
but  you  've  not  the  makings  of  a  Porson  in  you,  or 
a  Leibnitz  either." 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  a  Porson  or  a  Leibnitz,"  said 
Daniel.  "  I  would  rather  be  a  great  leader,  like 
Pericles  or  Washington." 

"  Ay,  ay  ;  you  've  a  notion  they  did  with  little 
parsing  and  less  algebra,"  said  Fraser.  But  in 
reality  he  thought  his  pupil  a  remarkable  lad,  to 
whom  one  thing  was  as  easy  as  another  if  he  had  only 
a  mind  to  it. 

Things  went  very  well  with  Daniel  in  his  new 
world,  except  that  a  boy  with  whom  he  was  at  once 
inclined  to  strike  up  a  close  friendship  talked  to 
him  a  great  deal  about  his  home  and  parents,  and 
seemed  to  expect  a  like  expansiveness  in  return. 
Daniel  immediately  shrank  into  reserve,  and  this 
experience  remained  a  check  on  his  naturally  strong 
bent  towards  the  formation  of  intimate  friend- 
ships. Every  one,  his  tutor  included,  set  him 
down  as  a  reserved  boy,  though  he  was  so  good- 


MEETING  STREAMS.  237 

humoured  and  unassuming,  as  well  as  quick  both 
at  study  and  sport,  that  nobody  called  his  reserve 
disagreeable.  Certainly  his  face  had  a  great  deal  to 
do  with  that  favourable  interpretation ;  but  in  this 
instance  the  beauty  of  the  closed  lips  told  no 
falsehood. 

A  surprise  that  came  to  him  before  his  first 
vacation  strengthened  the  silent  consciousness  of  a 
grief  within,  which  might  be  compared  in  some 
ways  with  Byron's  susceptibility  about  his  deformed 
foot.  Sir  Hugo  wrote  word  that  he  was  married  to 
Miss  Eaymond,  a  sweet  lady  whom  Daniel  must 
remember  having  seen.  The  event  would  make  no 
difference  about  his  spending  the  vacation  at  the 
Abbey  ;  he  would  find  Lady  Mallinger  a  new  friend 
whom  he  would  be  sure  to  love,  —  and  much  more 
to  the  usual  effect  when  a  man,  having  done  some- 
thing agreeable  to  himself,  is  disposed  to  congratu- 
late others  on  his  own  good  fortune,  and  the  deducible 
satis factoriness  of  events  in  general. 

Let  Sir  Hugo  be  partly  excused  until  the  grounds 
of  his  action  can  be  more  fully  known.  The  mis- 
takes in  his  behaviour  to  Deronda  were  due  to  that 
dulness  towards  what  may  be  going  on  in  other 
minds,  especially  the  minds  of  children,  which  is 
among  the  commonest  deficiencies  even  in  good-na- 
tured men  like  him,  when  life  has  been  generally 
easy  to  themselves,  and  their  energies  have  been 
quietly  spent  in  feeling  gratified.  No  one  was 
better  aware  than  he  that  Daniel  was  generally  sus- 
pected to  be  his  own  son.  But  he  was  pleased  with 
that  suspicion ;  and  his  imagination  had  never  once 
been  troubled  with  the  way  in  which  the  boy  him- 
self might  be  affected,  either  then  or  in  the  future, 
by  the  enigmatic  aspect  of  his  circumstances.     He 


238  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

was  as  fond  of  him  as  could  be,  and  meant  the  best 
by  him.  And  considering  the  lightness  with  which 
the  preparation  of  young  lives  seems  to  lie  on 
respectable  consciences,  Sir  Hugo  Mallinger  can 
hardly  be  held  open  to  exceptional  reproach.  He 
had  been  a  bachelor  till  he  was  five-and-forty,  had 
always  been  regarded  as  a  fascinating  man  of  ele- 
gant tastes;  what  could  be  more  natural,  even 
according  to  the  index  of  language,  than  that  he 
should  have  a  beautiful  boy  like  the  little  Deronda 
to  take  care  of?  The  mother  might  even  perhaps 
be  in  the  great  world,  —  met  with  in  Sir  Hugo's 
residences  abroad.  The  only  person  to  feel  any  ob- 
jection was  the  boy  himself,  who  could  not  have 
been  consulted.  And  the  boy's  objections  had  never 
been  dreamed  of  by  anybody  but  himself. 

By  the  time  Deronda  was  ready  to  go  to  Cam- 
bridge, Lady  Mallinger  had  already  three  daughters, 
—  charming  babies,  all  three,  but  whose  sex  was 
announced  as  a  melancholy  alternative,  the  ofiFspring 
desired  being  a  son :  if  Sir  Hugo  had  no  son,  the 
succession  must  go  to  his  nephew  Mallinger  Grand- 
court.  Daniel  no  longer  held  a  wavering  opinion 
about  his  own  birth.  His  fuller  knowledge  had 
tended  to  convince  him  that  Sir  Hugo  was  his 
father ;  and  he  conceived  that  the  baronet,  since  he 
never  approached  a  communication  on  the  subject, 
wished  him  to  have  a  tacit  understanding  of  the  fact, 
and  to  accept  in  silence  what  would  be  generally 
considered  more  than  the  due  love  and  nurture.  Sir 
Hugo's  marriage  might  certainly  have  been  felt  as  a 
new  ground  of  resentment  by  some  youths  in  Deron- 
da's  position,  and  the  timid  Lady  Mallinger  with 
lier  fast-coming  little  ones  might  have  been  images 
to  scowl  at,  as  likely  to  divert  much  that  was  dis- 


MEETING  STREAMS.  239 

posable  in  the  feelings  and  possessions  of  the 
baronet  from  one  who  felt  his  own  claim  to  be  prior. 
But  hatred  of  innocent  human  obstacles  was  a  form 
of  moral  stupidity  not  in  Deronda's  grain ;  even  the 
indignation  which  had  long  mingled  itself  with  his 
afifection  for  Sir  Hugo  took  the  quality  of  pain 
rather  than  of  temper ;  and  as  his  mind  ripened  to 
the  idea  of  tolerance  towards  error,  he  habitually 
linked  the  idea  with  his  own  silent  grievances. 

The  sense  of  an  entailed  disadvantage  —  the  de- 
formed foot  doubtfully  hidden  by  the  shoe  —  makes 
a  restlessly  active  spiritual  yeast,  and  easily  turns 
a  self-centred,  unloving  nature  into  an  Ishmaelite. 
But  in  the  rarer  sort,  who  presently  see  their  own 
frustrated  claim  as  one  among  a  myriad,  the  inex- 
orable sorrow  takes  the  form  of  fellowship,  and 
makes  the  imagination  tender.  Deronda's  early- 
wakened  susceptibility,  charged  at  first  with  ready 
indignation  and  resistant  pride,  had  raised  in  him  a 
premature  reflection  on  certain  questions  of  life ;  it 
had  given  a  bias  to  his  conscience,  a  sympathy  with 
certain  ills,  and  a  tension  of  resolve  in  certain  direc- 
tions, which  marked  him  off  from  other  youths 
much  more  than  any  talents  he  possessed. 

One  day  near  the  end  of  the  Long  Vacation,  when 
he  had  been  making  a  tour  in  the  Ehineland  with 
his  Eton  tutor,  and  was  come  for  a  farewell  stay  at 
the  Abbey  before  going  to  Cambridge,  he  said  to  Sir 
Hugo,— 

"  What  do  you  intend  me  to  be,  sir  ? "  They  were 
in  the  library,  and  it  was  the  fresh  morning.  Sir 
Hugo  had  called  him  in  to  read  a  letter  from  a 
Cambridge  Don  who  was  to  be  interested  in  him; 
and  since  the  baronet  wore  an  air  at  once  business- 
like and  leisurely,  the  moment  seemed  propitious 


240  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

for  entering  ou  a  grave  subject  which  had  never 
yet  been  thoroughly  discussed. 

"  Whatever  your  inclination  leads  you  to,  my  boy. 
I  thought  it  right  to  give  you  the  option  of  the 
army,  but  you  shut  the  door  on  that,  and  I  was 
glad.  I  don't  expect  you  to  choose  just  yet,  —  by  and 
by,  when  you  have  looked  about  you  a  little  more 
and  tried  your  mettle  among  older  men.  The 
university  has  a  good  wide  opening  into  the  forum. 
There  are  prizes  to  be  won,  and  a  bit  of  good  fortune 
often  gives  the  turn  to  a  man's  taste.  From  what  I 
see  and  hear,  I  should  think  you  can  take  up  any- 
thing you  like.  You  are  in  deeper  water  with  your 
classics  than  I  ever  got  into,  and  if  you  are  rather 
sick  of  that  swimming,  Cambridge  is  the  place 
where  you  can  go  into  mathematics  with  a  will,  and 
disport  yourself  on  the  dry  sand  as  much  as  you 
like.     I  floundered  along  like  a  carp." 

"  I  suppose  money  will  make  some  difference,  sir," 
said  Daniel,  blushing.  "  I  shall  have  to  keep  myself 
by  and  by." 

"Not  exactly.  I  recommend  you  not  to  be 
extravagant,  —  yes,  yes,  I  know,  —  you  are  not  in- 
clined to  that ;  but  you  need  not  take  up  any- 
thing against  the  grain.  You  will  have  a  bachelor's 
income,  —  enough  for  you  to  look  about  with.  Per- 
haps I  had  better  tell  you  that  you  may  consider 
yourself  secure  of  seven  hundred  a  year.  You 
might  make  yourself  a  barrister,  —  be  a  writer, — 
take  up  politics.  I  confess  that  is  what  would 
please  me  best.  I  should  like  to  have  you  at  my 
elbow  and  pulling  with  me." 

Deronda  looked  embarrassed.  He  felt  that  he 
ought  to  make  some  sign  of  gratitude,  but  other 
feelings  clogged  his  tongue.     A  moment  was  pass- 


MEETING  STREAMS.  241 

ing  by  in  which  a  question  about  his  birth  was 
throbbing  within  him,  and  yet  it  seemed  more 
impossible  than  ever  that  the  question  should  find 
vent,  —  more  impossible  than  ever  that  he  could 
hear  certain  things  from  Sir  Hugo's  lips.  The 
liberal  way  in  which  he  was  dealt  with  was  the 
more  striking  because  the  baronet  had  of  late  cared 
particularly  for  money,  and  for  making  the  utmost 
of  his  life-interest  in  the  estate  by  way  of  provid- 
ing for  his  daughters;  and  as  all  this  flashed 
through  Daniel's  mind,  it  was  momentarily  within 
his  imagination  that  the  provision  for  him  might 
come  in  some  way  from  his  mother.  But  such 
vaporous  conjecture  passed  away  as  quickly  as  it 
came. 

Sir  Hugo  appeared  not  to  notice  anything  peculiar 
in  Daniel's  manner,  and  presently  went  on  with  his 
usual  chatty  liveliness. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  done  some  good  reading  out- 
side your  classics,  and  have  got  a  grip  of  French  and 
German.  The  truth  is,  unless  a  man  can  get  the 
prestige  and  income  of  a  Don  and  write  donnish 
books,  it 's  hardly  worth  while  for  him  to  make  a 
Greek  and  Latin  machine  of  himself,  and  be  able  to 
spin  you  out  pages  of  the  Greek  dramatists  at  any 
verse  you  '11  give  him  as  a  cue.  That 's  all  very 
fine,  but  in  practical  life  nobody  does  give  you  the 
cue  for  pages  of  Greek.  In  fact,  it 's  a  nicety  of 
conversation  which  I  would  have  you  attend  to, — 
much  quotation  of  any  sort,  even  in  English,  is 
bad.  It  tends  to  choke  ordinary  remark.  One 
could  n't  carry  on  life  comfortably  without  a  little 
blindness  to  the  fact  that  everything  has  been  said 
better  than  we  can  put  it  ourselves.  But  talking  of 
Dons,  I  have  seen  Dons  make  a  capital  figure  in 

VOL.  I.  — 16 


242  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

society  ;  and  occasionally  they  can  shoot  you  down  a 
cartload  of  learning  in  the  right  place,  which  will  tell 
in  politics.  Such  men  are  wanted ;  and  if  you  have 
any  turn  for  being  a  Don,  I  say  nothing  against  it." 

"  I  think  there 's  not  much  chance  of  that. 
Quicksett  and  Puller  are  much  stronger  than  I 
am.  I  hope  you  will  not  be  much  disappointed  if 
I  don't  come  out  with  high  honours." 

"  No,  no.  I  should  like  you  to  do  yourself  credit, 
but  for  God's  sake  don't  come  out  as  a  superior 
expensive  kind  of  idiot,  like  young  Brecon,  who 
got  a  Double  First,  and  has  been  learning  to  knit 
braces  ever  since.  What  I  wish  you  to  get  is  a 
passport  in  life.  I  don't  go  against  our  university 
system :  we  want  a  little  disinterested  culture  to 
make  head  against  cotton  and  capital,  especially  in 
the  House.  My  Greek  has  all  evaporated:  if  I  had 
to  construe  a  verse  on  a  sudden,  I  should  get  an 
apoplectic  fit.  But  it  formed  my  taste.  I  dare  say 
my  English  is  the  better  for  it." 

On  this  point  Daniel  kept  a  respectful  silence. 
The  enthusiastic  belief  in  Sir  Hugo's  writings  as  a 
standard,  and  in  the  Whigs  as  the  chosen  race 
among  politicians,  had  gradually  vanished  along 
with  the  seraphic  boy's  face.  He  had  not  been  the 
hardest  of  workers  at  Eton.  Though  some  kinds 
of  study  and  reading  came  as  easily  as  boating  to 
him,  he  was  not  of  the  material  that  usually  makes 
the  first-rate  Eton  scholar.  There  had  sprung  up  in 
him  a  meditative  yearning  after  wide  knowledge 
which  is  likely  always  to  abate  ardour  in  the  fight  for 
prize  acquirement  in  narrow  tracks.  Happily  he 
was  modest,  and  took  any  second-rateness  in  him- 
self simply  as  a  fact,  not  as  a  marvel  necessarily 
tp  \)^  Accounted   for  by  a  superiority.      Still  Mr. 


MEETING  STREAMS.  243 

Eraser's  high  opinion  of  the  lad  had  not  been 
altogether  belied  by  the  youth :  Daniel  had  the 
stamp  of  rarity  in  a  subdued  fervour  of  sympathy, 
an  activity  of  imagination  on  behalf  of  others, 
which  did  not  show  itself  effusively,  but  was  con- 
tinually seen  in  acts  of  considerateness  that  struck 
his  companions  as  moral  eccentricity.  "  Deronda 
would  have  been  first-rate  if  he  had  had  more 
ambition "  —  was  a  frequent  remark  about  him. 
But  how  could  a  fellow  push  his  way  properly 
when  he  objected  to  swop  for  his  own  advantage, 
knocked  under  by  choice  when  he  was  within  an 
inch  of  victory,  and,  unlike  the  great  Clive,  would 
rather  be  the  calf  than  the  butcher  ?  It  was  a 
mistake,  however,  to  suppose  that  Deronda  had  not 
his  share  of  ambition :  we  know  he  had  suffered 
keenly  from  the  belief  that  there  was  a  tinge  of 
dishonour  in  his  lot ;  but  there  are  some  cases,  and 
his  was  one  of  them,  in  which  the  sense  of  injury 
breeds  —  not  the  will  to  inflict  injuries  and  climb 
over  them  as  a  ladder,  but  —  a  hatred  of  all  injury. 
He  had  his  flashes  of  fierceness,  and  could  hit  out 
upon  occasion  ;  but  the  occasions  were  not  always 
what  might  have  been  expected.  For  in  what 
related  to  himself  his  resentful  impulses  had  been 
early  checked  by  a  mastering  aff"ectionateness.  Love 
has  a  habit  of  saying  "  Never  mind "  to  angry  self, 
who,  sitting  down  for  the  nonce  in  the  lower 
place,  by  and  by  gets  used  to  it.  So  it  was  that 
as  Deronda  approached  manhood  his  feeling  for 
Sir  Hugo,  while  it  was  getting  more  and  more 
mixed  with  criticism,  was  gaining  in  that  sort  of 
allowance  which  reconciles  criticism  with  tender- 
ness. The  dear  old  beautiful  home  and  everything 
within  it,  Lady  Mallinger  and  her  little  ones   in- 


244  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

eluded,  were  consecrated  for  the  youth  as  they 
had  been  for  the  boy,  —  only  with  a  certain  dif- 
ference of  light  on  the  objects.  The  altar-piece 
was  no  longer  miraculously  perfect,  painted  under 
infallible  guidance,  but  the  human  hand  discerned 
in  the  work  was  appealing  to  a  reverent  tender- 
ness safer  from  the  gusts  of  discovery.  Certainly 
Deronda's  ambition,  even  in  his  spring-time,  lay 
exceptionally  aloof  from  conspicuous,  vulgar  tri- 
umph, and  from  other  ugly  forms  of  boyish 
energy ;  perhaps  because  he  was  early  impassioned 
by  ideas,  and  burned  his  fire  on  those  heights. 
One  may  spend  a  good  deal  of  energy  in  disliking 
and  resisting  what  others  pursue ;  and  a  boy  who  is 
fond  of  somebody  else's  pencil-case  may  not  be 
more  energetic  than  another  who  is  fond  of  giving 
his  own  pencil-case  away.  Still,  it  was  not  De- 
ronda's disposition  to  escape  from  ugly  scenes :  he 
was  more  inclined  to  sit  through  them  and  take 
care  of  the  fellow  least  able  to  take  care  of  him- 
self. It  had  helped  to  make  him  popular  that  he 
was  sometimes  a  little  compromised  by  this  apparent 
comradeship.  For  a  meditative  interest  in  learning 
how  human  miseries  are  wrought  —  as  precocious  in 
him  as  another  sort  of  genius  in  the  poet  who  writes 
a  Queen  Mab  at  nineteen  —  was  so  infused  with 
kindliness  that  it  easily  passed  for  comradeship. 
Enough.  In  many  of  our  neighbours'  lives  there 
is  much  not  only  of  error  and  lapse,  but  of  a  certain 
exquisite  goodness  which  can  never  be  written  or 
even  spoken, —  only  divined  by  each  of  us,  according 
to  the  inward  instruction  of  our  own  privacy. 

The  impression  he  made  at  Cambridge  corre- 
sponded to  his  position  at  Eton.  Every  one 
interested  in  him  agreed  that  he  might  have  taken 


MEETING  STREAMS.  245 

a  high  place  if  his  motives  had  been  of  a  more 
pushing  sort,  and  if  he  had  not,  instead  of  regard- 
ing studies  as  instruments  of  success,  hampered 
himself  with  the  notion  that  they  were  to  feed 
motive  and  opinion,  —  a  notion  which  set  him 
criticising  methods  and  arguing  against  hi^  freight 
and  harness  when  he  should  have  been  using  all 
his  might  to  pull.  In  the  beginning  his  work  at 
the  university  had  a  new  zest  for  him :  indifferent 
to  the  continuation  of  the  Eton  classical  drill,  he 
applied  himself  vigorously  to  mathematics,  for 
which  he  had  shown  an  early  aptitude  under  Mr. 
Fraser,  and  he  had  the  delight  of  feeling  his 
strength  in  a  comparatively  fresh  exercise  of 
thought.  That  delight,  and  the  favourable  opinion 
of  his  tutor,  determined  him  to  try  for  a  mathemat- 
ical scholarship  in  the  Easter  of  his  second  year : 
he  wished  to  gratify  Sir  Hugo  by  some  achieve- 
ment, and  the  study  of  the  higher  mathematics, 
having  the  growing  fascination  inherent  in  all 
thinking  which  demands  intensity,  was  making  him 
a  more  exclusive  worker  than  he  had  been  before. 

But  here  came  the  old  check  which  had  been 
growing  with  his  growth.  He  found  the  inward 
bent  towards  comprehension  and  thoroughness  di- 
verging more  and  more  from  the  track  marked  out 
by  the  standards  of  examination :  he  felt  a  height- 
ening discontent  with  the  wearing  futility  and 
enfeebling  strain  of  a  demand  for  excessive  reten- 
tion and  dexterity  without  any  insight  into  the 
principles  which  form  the  vital  connections  of 
knowledge.  (Deronda's  undergraduateship  occurred 
fifteen  years  ago,  when  the  perfection  of  our  uni- 
versity methods  was  not  yet  indisputable.)  In 
hours  when  his  dissatisfaction  was  strong  upon  him 


^  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

he  reproached  himself  for  having  been  attracted  by 
the  conveutional  advantage  of  belonging  to  an 
English  university,  and  was  tempted  towards  the 
project  of  asking  Sir  Hugo  to  let  him  quit  Cam- 
bridge and  pursue  a  more  independent  line  of 
study  abroad.  The  germs  of  this  inclination  had 
been  already  stirring  in  his  boyish  love  of  universal 
history,  which  made  him  want  to  be  at  home  in 
foreign  countries,  and  follow  in  imagination  the 
travelling  students  of  the  middle  ages.  He  longed 
now  to  have  the  sort  of  apprenticeship  to  life  which 
would  not  shape  him  too  definitely,  and  rob  him  of 
the  choice  that  might  come  from  a  free  growth. 
One  sees  that  Deronda's  demerits  were  likely  to  be 
on  the  side  of  reflective  hesitation,  and  this  tendency 
was  encouraged  by  his  position  :  there  was  no  need 
for  him  to  get  an  immediate  income,  or  to  fit  him- 
self in  haste  for  a  profession  ;  and  his  sensibility  to 
the  half-known  facts  of  his  parentage  made  him  an 
excuse  for  lingering  longer  than  others  in  a  state  of 
social  neutrality.  Other  men,  he  inwardly  said,  had 
a  more  definite  place  and  duties.  But  the  project 
which  flattered  his  inclination  might  not  have  gone 
beyond  the  stage  of  ineffective  brooding,  if  certain 
circumstances  had  not  quickened  it  into  action. 

The  circumstances  arose  out  of  an  enthusiastic 
friendship  which  extended  into  his  after-life.  Of 
the  same  year  with  himself,  and  occupying  small 
rooms  close  to  his,  was  a  youth  who  had  come  as 
an  exhibitioner  from  Christ's  Hospital,  and  had 
eccentricities  enough  for  a  Charles  Lamb.  Only 
to  look  at  his  pinched  features  and  blond  hair 
hanging  over  his  collar  reminded  one  of  pale  quaint 
heads  by  early  German  painters ;  and  when  this 
faint  colouring  was  lit  up  by  a  joke,  there  came 


MEETING  STREAMS.  247 

sudden  creases  about  the  mouth  and  eyes  which 
might  have  been  moulded  by  the  soul  of  an  aged 
humourist.  His  father,  an  engraver  of  some  dis- 
tinction, had  been  dead  eleven  years,  and  his 
mother  had  three  girls  to  educate  and  maintain 
on  a  meagre  annuity.  Hans  Meyrick  —  he  had 
been  daringly  christened  after  Holbein  —  felt  him- 
self the  pillar,  or  rather  the  knotted  and  twisted 
trunk,  round  which  these  feeble  climbing  plants 
must  cling.  There  was  no  want  of  ability  or  of 
honest  well-meaning  affection  to  make  the  prop 
trustworthy :  the  ease  and  quickness  with  which 
he  studied  might  serve  him  to  win  prizes  at  Cam- 
bridge, as  he  had  done  among  the  Blue  Coats,  in 
spite  of  irregularities.  The  only  danger  was,  that 
the  incalculable  tendencies  in  him  might  be  fatally 
timed,  and  that  his  good  intentions  might  be  frus- 
trated by  some  act  which  was  not  due  to  habit  but 
to  capricious,  scattered  impulses.  He  could  not  be 
said  to  have  any  one  bad  habit ;  yet  at  longer  or 
shorter  intervals  he  had  fits  of  impish  recklessness, 
and  did  things  that  would  have  made  the  worst 
habits. 

Hans  in  his  right  mind,  however,  was  a  lovable 
creature,  and  in  Deronda  he  had  happened  to  find  a 
friend  who  was  likely  to  stand  by  him  with  the  more 
constancy,  from  compassion  for  these  brief  aberra- 
tions that  might  bring  a  long  repentance.  Hans, 
indeed,  shared  Deronda's  rooms  nearly  as  much  as  he 
used  his  own :  to  Deronda  he  poured  himself  out  on 
his  studies,  his  affairs,  his  hopes  ;  the  poverty  of 
his  home,  and  his  love  for  the  creatures  there ;  the 
itching  of  his  fingers  to  draw,  and  his  determina- 
tion to  fight  it  away  for  the  sake  of  getting  some 
sort  of  plum  that  he  might  divide  with  his  mother 


248  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

and  the  girls.  He  wanted  no  confidence  in  return, 
but  seemed  to  take  Deronda  as  an  Olympian  who 
needed  nothing,  —  an  egotism  in  friendship  which 
is  common  enough  with  mercurial,  expansive  na- 
tures. Deronda  was  content,  and  gave  Meyrick  all 
tlie  interest  he  claimed,  getting  at  last  a  brotherly 
anxiety  about  him,  looking  after  him  in  his  erratic 
moments,  and  contriving  by  adroitly  delicate  devices 
not  only  to  make  up  for  his  friend's  lack  of  pence, 
but  to  save  him  from  threatening  chances.  Such 
friendship  easily  becomes  tender :  the  one  spreads 
strong  sheltering  wings  that  delight  in  spreading; 
the  other  gets  the  warm  protection  which  is  also  a 
delight.  Meyrick  was  going  in  for  a  classical 
scholarship ;  and  his  success,  in  various  ways  mo- 
mentous, was  the  more  probable  from  the  steadying 
influence  of  Deronda's  friendship. 

But  an  imprudence  of  Meyrick's,  committed  at 
the  beginning  of  the  autumn  term,  threatened  to 
disappoint  his  hopes.  With  his  usual  alternation 
between  unnecessary  expense  and  self-privation,  he 
had  given  too  much  money  for  an  old  engraving 
which  fascinated  him,  and  to  make  up  for  it,  had 
come  from  London  in  a  third-class  carriage  with 
his  eyes  exposed  to  a  bitter  wind  and  any  irritating 
particles  the  wind  might  drive  before  it.  The  con- 
sequence was  a  severe  inflammation  of  the  eyes, 
which  for  some  time  hung  over  him  the  threat  of  a 
lasting  injury.  This  crushing  trouble  called  out  all 
Deronda's  readiness  to  devote  himself,  and  he  made 
every  other  occupation  secondary  to  that  of  being 
companion  and  eyes  to  Hans,  working  with  him 
and  for  him  at  his  classics,  that  if  possible  his 
chance  of  the  classical  scholarship  might  be  saved. 
Hans,  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  his  suffering  from 


'MEETING  STREAMS.  ±A9 

his  mother  and  sisters,  alleged  his  work  as  a 
reason  for  passing  the  Christmas  at  Cambridge, 
and  his  friend  stayed  up  with  him. 

Meanwhile  Deronda  relaxed  his  hold  on  his 
mathematics  ;  and  Hans,  reflecting  on  this,  at  length 
said,  "Old  fellow,  while  you  are  hoisting  me  you 
are  risking  yourself.  With  your  mathematical 
cram  one  may  be  like  Moses  or  Mahomet  or  some- 
body of  that  sort  who  had  to  cram,  and  forgot  in 
one  day  what  it  had  taken  him  forty  to  learn." 

Deronda  would  not  admit  that  he  cared  about 
the  risk,  and  he  had  really  been  beguiled  into  a  little 
indifference  by  double  sympathy:  he  was  very 
anxious  that  Hans  should  not  miss  the  much- 
needed  scholarship,  and  he  felt  a  revival  of  interest 
in  the  old  studies.  Still,  when  Hans,  rather  late 
in  the  day,  got  able  to  use  his  own  eyes,  Deronda 
had  tenacity  enough  to  try  hard  and  recover  his 
lost  ground.  He  failed,  however ;  but  he  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  Meyrick  win. 

Success,  as  a  sort  of  beginning  that  urged  com- 
pletion, might  have  reconciled  Deronda  to  his 
university  course ;  but  the  emptiness  of  all  things, 
from  politics  to  pastimes,  is  never  so  striking  to  us 
as  when  we  fail  in  them.  The  loss  of  the  personal 
triumph  had  no  severity  for  him,  but  the  sense  of 
having  spent  his  time  ineffectively  in  a  mode  of 
working  which  had  been  against  the  grain,  gave 
him  a  distaste  for  any  renewal  of  the  process,  which 
turned  his  imagined  project  of  quitting  Cambridge 
into  a  serious  intention.  In  speaking  of  his  inten- 
tion to  Meyrick  he  made  it  appear  that  he  was 
glad  of  the  turn  events  had  taken,  —  glad  to  have 
the  balance  dip  decidedly,  and  feel  freed  from  his 
hesitations ;  but  he  observed  that  he  must  of  course 


450  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

submit  to  any  strong  objection  on  the  part  of  Sii 
Huga 

Meyrick's  joy  and  gratitude  were  disturbed  by 
much  uneasiness.  He  believed  in  Deronda's  al- 
leged preference,  but  he  felt  keenly  that  in  serving 
him  Daniel  had  placed  himself  at  a  disadvantage 
in  Sir  Hugo's  opinion,  and  he  said  mournfully : 
"  If  you  had  got  the  scholarship,  Sir  Hugo  would 
have  thought  that  you  asked  to  leave  us  with  a  bet- 
ter grace.  You  have  spoilt  your  luck,  for  my  sake, 
and  I  can  do  nothing  to  mend  it." 

"  Yes,  you  can ;  you  are  to  be  a  first-rate  fellow. 
I  call  that  a  first-rate  investment  of  my  luck." 

"  Oh,  confound  it !  You  save  an  ugly  mongrel 
from  drowning,  and  expect  him  to  cut  a  fine  figure. 
The  poets  have  made  tragedies  enough  about  sign- 
ing one's  self  over  to  wickedness  for  the  sake  of 
getting  something  plummy ;  I  shall  write  a  tragedy 
of  a  fellow  who  signed  himself  over  to  be  good, 
and  was  uncomfortable  ever  after." 

But  Hans  lost  no  time  in  secretly  writing  the 
history  of  the  affair  to  Sir  Hugo,  making  it  plain 
that  but  for  Deronda's  generous  devotion  he  could 
hardly  have  failed  to  win  the  prize  he  had  been 
working  for. 

The  two  friends  went  up  to  town  together :  Mey- 
rick  to  rejoice  with  his  mother  and  the  girls  in  their 
little  home  at  Chelsea ;  Deronda  to  carry  out  the  less 
easy  task  of  opening  his  mind  to  Sir  Hugo.  He 
relied  a  little  on  the  baronet's  general  tolerance  of 
eccentricities,  but  he  expected  more  opposition  than 
he  met  with.  He  was  received  with  even  warmer 
kindness  than  usual,  the  failure  was  passed  over 
lightly,  and  when  he  detailed  his  reasons  for  wish- 
ing to  quit  the  university  and  go  to  study  abroad, 


MEETING  STREAMS.  251 

Sir  Hugo  sat  for  some  time  in  a  silence  which  was 
rather  meditative  than  surprised.  At  last  he  said, 
looking  at  Daniel  with  examination,  "  So  you  don't 
want  to  be  an  Englishman  to  the  backbone,  after 
all?" 

"  I  want  to  be  an  Englishman,  but  I  want  to 
understand  other  points  of  view.  And  I  want  to 
get  rid  of  a  merely  English  attitude  in  studies." 

"  I  see  ;  you  don't  want  to  be  turned  out  in  the 
same  mould  as  every  other  youngster.  And  I  have 
nothing  to  say  against  your  doffing  some  of  our 
national  prejudices.  I  feel  the  better  myself  for 
having  spent  a  good  deal  of  my  time  abroad.  But, 
for  God's  sake,  keep  an  English  cut,  and  don't  be- 
come indifferent  to  bad  tobacco  !  And,  my  dear 
boy,  it  is  good  to  be  unselfish  and  generous;  but 
don't  carry  that  too  far.  It  will  not  do  to  give 
yourself  to  be  melted  down  for  the  benefit  of  the 
tallow-trade  ;  you  must  know  where  to  find  yourself. 
However,  I  shall  put  no  veto  on  your  going.  Wait 
until  I  can  get  off  Committee,  and  I  '11  run  over  with 
you." 

So  Deronda  went  according  to  his  will.  But  not 
before  he  had  spent  some  hours  with  Hans  Meyrick, 
and  been  introduced  to  the  mother  and  sisters  in 
the  Chelsea  home.  The  shy  girls  watched  and 
registered  every  look  of  their  brother's  friend, 
declared  by  Hans  to  have  been  the  salvation  of 
him,  a  fellow  like  nobody  else,  and,  in  fine,  a  brick. 
They  so  thoroughly  accepted  Deronda  as  an  ideal, 
that  when  he  was  gone  the  youngest  set  to  work, 
under  the  criticism  of  the  two  elder  girls,  to  paint 
him  as  Prince  Camaralzaman. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

This  18  truth  the  poet  sings, 
That  a  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow  is  remembering  happier  things. 

Tennyson  :  Locksley  JlalL 

On  a  fine  evening  near  the  end  of  July,  Deronda 
was  rowing  himself  on  the  Thames.  It  was  al- 
ready a  year  or  more  since  he  had  come  back  to 
England,  with  the  understanding  that  his  educa- 
tion was  finished,  and  that  he  was  somehow  to 
take  his  place  in  English  society ;  but  though,  in 
deference  to  Sir  Hugo's  wish,  and  to  fence  ofif  idle- 
ness, he  had  begun  to  read  law,  this  apparent  de- 
cision had  been  without  other  result  than  to  deepen 
the  roots  of  indecision.  His  old  love  of  boating  had 
revived  with  the  more  force  now  that  he  was  in 
town  with  the  Mallingers,  because  he  could  nowhere 
else  get  the  same  still  seclusion  which  the  river  gave 
him.  He  had  a  boat  of  his  own  at  Putney,  and 
whenever  Sir  Hugo  did  not  want  him,  it  was  his 
chief  holiday  to  row  till  past  sunset  and  come  in 
again  with  the  stars.  Not  that  he  was  in  a  sen- 
timental stage ;  but  he  was  in  another  sort  of 
contemplative  mood  perhaps  more  common  in  the 
young  men  of  our  day, —  that  of  questioning  whether 
it  were  worth  while  to  take  part  in  the  battle  of  the 
world ;  I  mean,  of  course,  the  young  men  in  whom 
the  unproductive  labour  of  questioning  is  sustained 
by  three  or  five  per  cent  on  capital  which  some- 
body else  has  battled  for.  It  puzzled  Sir  Hugo  that 
one  who  made  a  splendid  contrast  with  all  that  wa3 


MEETING  STREAMS.  253 

sickly  and  puling  should  be  hampered  with  ideas 
which,  since  they  left  an  accomplished  Whig  like 
himself  unobstructed,  could  be  no  better  than  spec- 
tral illusions ;  especially  as  Deronda  set  himself 
against  authorship,  —  a  vocation  which  is  under- 
stood to  turn  foolish  thinking  into  funds. 

Rowing  in  his  dark-blue  shirt  and  skull-cap,  his 
curls  closely  clipped,  his  mouth  beset  with  abun- 
dant soft  waves  of  beard,  he  bore  only  disguised 
traces  of  the  serapliic  boy  "  trailing  clouds  of  glory." 
Still,  even  one  who  had  never  seen  him  since  his  boy- 
hood might  have  looked  at  him  with  slow  recogni- 
tion, due  perhaps  to  the  peculiarity  of  the  gaze 
which  Gwendolen  chose  to  call  "  dreadful,"  though 
it  had  really  a  very  mild  sort  of  scrutiny.  The 
voice,  sometimes  audible  in  subdued  snatches  of 
song,  had  turned  out  merely  a  high  barytone; 
indeed,  only  to  look  at  his  lithe  powerful  frame 
and  the  firm  gravity  of  his  face  would  have  been 
enough  for  an  experienced  guess  that  he  had  no 
rare  and  ravishing  tenor  such  as  nature  reluctantly 
makes  at  some  sacrifice.  Look  at  his  hands ;  they 
are  not  small  and  dimpled,  with  tapering  fingers 
that  seem  to  have  only  a  deprecating  touch ;  they 
are  long,  flexible,  firmly  grasping  hands,  such  as 
Titian  has  painted  in  a  picture  where  he  wanted 
to  show  the  combination  of  refinement  with  force. 
And  there  is  something  of  a  likeness,  too,  between  the 
faces  belonging  to  the  hands,  —  in  both  the  uniform 
pale-brown  skin,  the  perpendicular  brow,  the  calmly 
penetrating  eyes.  Not  seraphic  any  longer:  thor- 
oughly terrestrial  and  manly ;  but  still  of  a  kind 
to  raise  belief  in  a  human  dignity  which  can  afiford 
to  acknowledge  poor  relations. 

Such  types  meet  us  here  and  there  among  average 


254  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

conditions;  in  a  workman,  for  example,  whistling 
over  a  bit  of  measurement  and  lifting  his  eyes  to 
answer  our  question  about  the  road.  And  often 
the  grand  meanings  of  faces  as  well  as  of  written 
words  may  lie  chiefly  in  the  impressions  of  those 
who  look  on  them.  But  it  is  precisely  such  impres- 
sions that  happen  just  now  to  be  of  importance  in  re- 
lation to  Deronda,  rowing  on  the  Thames  in  a  very 
ordinary  equipment  for  a  young  Englishman  at  lei- 
sure, and  passing  under  Kew  Bridge  with  no  thought 
of  an  adventure  in  which  his  appearance  was  likely 
to  play  any  part.  In  fact,  he  objected  very  strongly 
to  the  notion,  which  others  had  not  allowed  him  to 
esoape,  that  his  appearance  was  of  a  kind  to  draw 
attention  ;  and  hints  of  this,  intended  to  be  com- 
plimentary, found  an  angry  resonance  in  him, 
coming  from  mingled  experiences,  to  which  a  clew 
has  already  been  given.  His  own  face  in  the  glass 
had  during  many  years  been  associated  for  him  with 
thoughts  of  some  one  whom  he  must  be  like,  —  one 
about  whose  character  and  lot  he  continually  won- 
dered, and  never  dared  to  ask. 

In  the  neighbourhood  of  Kew  Bridge,  between 
six  and  seven  o'clock,  the  river  was  no  solitude. 
Several  persons  were  sauntering  on  the  towing- 
path,  and  here  and  there  a  boat  was  plying. 
Deronda  had  been  rowing  fast  to  get  over  this 
spot,  when,  becoming  aware  of  a  great  barge  advanc- 
ing towards  him,  he  guided  his  boat  aside,  and  rested 
on  his  oar  within  a  couple  of  yards  of  the  river-brink. 
He  was  all  the  while  unconsciously  continuing  the 
low-toned  chant  which  had  haunted  his  throat  all 
the  way  up  the  river,  —  the  gondolier's  song  in  the 
"  Otello,"  where  Eossini  has  worthily  set  to  music 
the  immortal  words  of  Dante, — 


Deuoxtia  meets  Mirah  ox  the  Baxks  of  the  Thames. 


MEETING  STREAMS.  255 

"  Nessun  maggior  dolore 
Che  ricordarsi  del  tempo  felice 
Nella  miseria  ; "  ^ 

and  as  he  rested  on  his  oar,  the  pianissimo  fall  of  the 
melodic  wail  "  nella  miseria  "  was  distinctly  audible 
on  the  brink  of  the  water.  Three  or  four  persons  had 
paused  at  various  spots  to  watch  the  barge  pass- 
ing the  bridge,  and  doubtless  included  in  their 
notice  the  young  gentleman  in  the  boat ;  but 
probably  it  was  only  to  one  ear  that  the  low 
vocal  sounds  came  with  more  significance  than  if 
they  had  been  an  insect-murmur  amidst  the  sum 
of  current  noises.  Deronda,  awaiting  the  barge,  now 
turned  his  head  to  the  river-side,  and  saw  at  a  few 
yards'  distance  from  him  a  figure  which  might  have 
been  an  impersonation  of  the  misery  he  was  uncon- 
sciously giving  voice  to  :  a  girl  hardly  more  than 
eighteen,  of  low  slim  figure,  with  most  delicate 
little  face,  her  dark  curls  pushed  behind  her  ears 
under  a  large  black  hat,  a  long  woollen  cloak  over 
her  shoulders.  Her  hands  were  hanging  down 
clasped  before  her,  and  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
river  with  a  look  of  immovable,  statue-like  despair. 
This  strong  arrest  of  his  attention  made  him  cease 
singing :  apparently  his  voice  had  entered  her  inner 
world  without  her  having  taken  any  note  of  whence 
it  came,  for  when  it  suddenly  ceased  she  changed 
her  attitude  slightly,  and  looking  round  with  a 
frightened  glance,  met  Deronda's  face.  It  was  but 
a  couple  of  moments,  but  that  seems  a  long  while 
for  two  people  to  look  straight  at  each  other.  Her 
look  was  something  like  that  of  a  fawn  or  other 
gentle  animal  before  it  turns  to  run  away :  no 
1  Dante's  words  are  best  rendered  b^'  our  own  poet  in  the  Hnes  at 
the  head  of  the  chapter. 


256  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

blush,  no  special  alarm,  but  only  some  timidity 
which  yet  could  not  hinder  her  from  a  long  look 
before  she  turned.  In  fact,  it  seemed  to  Deronda 
that  she  was  only  half  conscious  of  her  surround- 
ings :  was  she  hungry,  or  was  there  some  other 
cause  of  bewilderment  ?  He  felt  an  outleap  of 
interest  and  compassion  towards  her ;  but  the  next 
instant  she  had  turned  and  walked  away  to  a  neigh- 
bouring bench  under  a  tree.  He  had  no  right  to 
linger  and  watch  her:  poorly  dressed,  melancholy 
women  are  common  sights;  it  was  only  the  delicate 
beauty,  the  picturesque  lines  and  colour  of  the  image 
that  were  exceptional,  and  these  conditions  made  it 
the  more  markedly  impossible  that  he  should  obtrude 
his  interest  upon  her.  He  began  to  row  away,  and 
was  soon  far  up  the  river ;  but  no  other  thoughts 
were  busy  enough  quite  to  expel  that  pale  image 
of  unhappy  girlhood.  He  fell  again  and  again  to 
speculating  on  the  probable  romance  that  lay  behind 
that  loneliness  and  look  of  desolation  ;  then  to  smile 
at  his  own  share  in  the  prejudice  that  interesting 
faces  must  have  interesting  adventures;  then  to 
justify  himself  for  feeling  that  sorrow  was  the  more 
tragic  when  it  befell  delicate,  childlike  beauty. 

"  I  should  not  have  forgotten  the  look  of  misery 
if  she  had  been  ugly  and  vulgar,"  he  said  to  himself. 
But  there  was  no  denying  that  the  attractiveness  of 
the  image  made  it  likelier  to  last.  It  was  clear  to 
him  as  an  onyx  cameo:  the  brown-black  drapery, 
the  white  face  with  small,  small  features  and  dark, 
long-lashed  eyes.  His  mind  glanced  over  the  girl- 
tragedies  that  are  going  on  in  the  world,  hidden, 
unheeded,  as  if  they  were  but  tragedies  of  the  copse 
or  hedgerow,  where  the  helpless  drag  wounded  wings 
forsakenly,  and  streak  the  shadowed  moss  with  the 


MEETING  STREAMS.  257 

red  moment-liand  of  their  own  death.  Deronda  of 
late,  in  his  solitary  excursions,  had  been  occupied 
chiefly  with  uncertainties  about  his  own  course ; 
but  those  uncertainties,  being  much  at  their  leisure, 
were  wont  to  have  such  wide-sweeping  connec- 
tions with  all  life  and  history  that  the  new  image 
of  helpless  sorrow  easily  blent  itself  with  what 
seemed  to  him  the  strong  array  of  reasons  why  he 
should  shrink  from  getting  into  that  routine  of  the 
world  which  makes  men  apologize  for  all  its  wrong- 
doing, and  take  opinions  as  mere  professional  equip- 
ment,—  why  he  should  not  draw  strongly  at  any 
thread  in  the  hopelessly  entangled  scheme  of 
things. 

He  used  his  oars  little,  satisfied  to  go  with  the 
tide  and  be  taken  back  by  it.  It  was  his  habit  to 
indulge  himself  in  that  solemn  passivity  which  easily 
comes  with  the  lengthening  shadows  and  mellowing 
light,  when  thinking  and  desiring  melt  together 
imperceptibly,  and  what  in  other  hours  may  have 
seemed  argument  takes  the  quality  of  passionate 
vision.  By  the  time  he  had  come  back  again  with 
the  tide  past  Richmond  Bridge  the  sun  was  near 
setting ;  and  the  approach  of  his  favourite  hour  — ■ 
with  its  deepening  stillness,  and  darkening  masses 
of  tree  and  building  between  the  double  glow  of  the 
sky  and  the  river  —  disposed  him  to  linger  as  if  they 
had  been  an  unfinished  strain  of  music.  He  looked 
out  for  a  perfectly  solitary  spot  where  he  could  lodge 
his  boat  against  the  bank,  and,  throwing  himself  on 
his  back  with  his  head  propped  on  the  cushions,  could 
watch  out  the  light  of  sunset  and  the  opening  of  that 
bead-roll  which  some  Oriental  poet  describes  as  God's 
call  to  the  little  stars,  who  each  answer,  "  Here  am 
I."     He  chose  a  spot  in  the  bend  of  the  river  just 

VOL.  I. —  17 


2s8  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

opposite  Kew  Gardens,  where  he  had  a  great  breadth 
of  water  before  him  reflecting  the  glory  of  the  sky, 
while  he  himself  was  in  shadow.  He  lay  with  his 
hands  behind  his  head  propped  on  a  level  with  the 
boat's  edge,  so  that  he  could  see  all  around  him,  but 
could  not  be  seen  by  any  one  at  a  few  yards'  dis- 
tance ;  and  for  a  long  while  he  never  turned  his 
eyes  from  the  view  right  in  front  of  him.  He  was 
forgetting  everything  else  in  a  half-speculative,  half- 
involuntary  identification  of  himself  with  the  objects 
he  was  looking  at,  thinking  how  far  it  might  be  pos- 
sible habitually  to  shift  his  centre  till  his  own 
personality  would  be  no  less  outside  him  than  the 
landscape,  —  when  the  sense  of  something  moving 
on  the  bank  opposite  him  where  it  was  bordered  by 
a  line  of  willow-bushes,  made  him  turn  his  glance 
thitherward.  In  the  first  moment  he  had  a  darting 
presentiment  about  the  moving  figure  ;  and  now  he 
could  see  the  small  face  with  the  strange  dying  sun- 
light upon  it.  He  feared  to  frighten  her  by  a  sud- 
den movement,  and  watched  her  with  motionless 
attention.  She  looked  round,  but  seemed  only  to 
gather  security  from  the  apparent  solitude,  hid  her 
hat  among  the  willows,  and  immediately  took  off 
her  woollen  cloak.  Presently  she  seated  herself  and 
deliberately  dipped  the  cloak  in  the  water,  holding 
it  there  a  little  while,  then  taking  it  out  with  effort, 
rising  from  her  seat  as  she  did  so.  By  this  time 
Deronda  felt  sure  that  she  meant  to  wrap  the  wet 
cloak  round  her  as  a  drowning-shroud ;  there  was  no 
longer  time  to  hesitate  about  frightening  her.  He 
rose  and  seized  his  oar  to  ply  across ;  happily  her 
position  lay  a  little  below  him.  The  poor  thing, 
overcome  with  terror  at  this  sign  of  discovery  from 
the  opposite  bank,  sank  down  on  the  brink  again, 


MEETING  STREAMS.  259 

holding  her  cloak  but  half  out  of  the  water.  She 
crouched  and  covered  her  face  as  if  she  kept  a  faint 
hope  that  she  had  not  been  seen,  and  that  the  boat- 
man was  accidentally  coming  towards  her.  But 
soon  he  was  within  brief  space  of  her,  steadying  his 
boat  against  the  bank,  and  speaking,  but  very 
gently,— 

"Don't  be  afraid.  .  .  .  You  are  unhappy.  ,  .  . 
Pray  trust  me.  .  .  .  Tell  me  what  I  can  do  to  help 
you." 

She  raised  her  head  and  looked  up  at  him.  His 
face  now  was  towards  the  light,  and  she  knew  it 
again.  But  she  did  not  speak  for  a  few  moments, 
which  were  a  renewal  of  their  former  gaze  at  each 
other.  At  last  she  said  in  a  low  sweet  voice,  with 
an  accent  so  distinct  that  it  suggested  foreignness 
and  yet  was  not  foreign,  "  I  saw  you  before ; "  .  .  . 
and  then  added  dreamily,  after  a  like  pause,  "  nella 
miseria." 

Deronda,  not  understanding  the  connection  of  her 
thought,  supposed  that  her  mind  was  weakened  by 
distress  and  hunger. 

"  It  was  you,  singing  ?  "  she  went  on,  hesitatingly 
—  "Nessun  maggior  dolore."  .  .  .  The  mere  words 
themselves,  uttered  in  her  sweet  undertones,  seemed 
to  give  the  melody  to  Deronda's  ear. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  understanding  now,  "  I  am 
often  singing  them.  But  I  fear  you  will  injure  your- 
self staying  here.  Pray  let  me  carry  you  in  my 
boat  to  some  place  of  safety.  And  that  wet  cloak  — 
let  me  take  it." 

He  would  not  attempt  to  take  it  without  her 
leave,  dreading  lest  he  should  scare  her.  Even  at 
his  words,  he  fancied  that  she  shrank  and  clutched 
the  cloak  more  tenaciously.     But  her  eyes  were  fixed 


26o  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

on  him  with  a  question  in  them  as  she  said,  "  You 
look  good.     Perhaps  it  is  God's  command." 

"  Do  trust  me.  Let  me  help  you.  I  will  die 
hefore  I  will  let  any  harm  come  to  you." 

She  rose  from  her  sitting  posture,  first  dragging 
the  saturated  cloak  and  then  letting  it  fall  on  the 
ground, —  it  was  too  heavy  for  her  tired  arms.  Her 
little  woman's  figure  as  she  laid  her  delicate  chilled 
hands  together  one  over  the  other  against  her  waist, 
and  went  a  step  backward  while  she  leaned  her 
head  forward  as  if  not  to  lose  her  sight  of  his  face, 
was  unspeakably  touching. 

"  Great  God  ! "  the  words  escaped  Deronda  in  a  tone 
80  low  and  solemn  that  they  seemed  like  a  prayer 
become  unconsciously  vocal.  The  agitating  impres- 
sion this  forsaken  girl  was  making  on  him  stirred  a 
fibre  that  lay  close  to  his  deepest  interest  in  the  fates 
of  women, —  "  perhaps  my  mother  was  like  this  one." 
The  old  thought  had  come  now  with  a  new  impetus 
of  mingled  feeling,  and  urged  that  exclamation  in 
which  both  East  and  "West  have  for  ages  concentrated 
their  awe  in  the  presence  of  inexorable  calamity. 

The  low-toned  words  seemed  to  have  some  re- 
assurance in  them  for  the  hearer:  she  stepped  for- 
ward close  to  the  boat's  side,  and  Deronda  put  out 
his  hand,  hoping  now  that  she  would  let  him  help 
her  in.  She  had  already  put  her  tiny  hand  into 
his,  which  closed  round  it,  when  some  new  thought 
struck  her,  and  drawing  back  she  said,  — 

"  I  have  nowhere  to  go,  —  nobody  belonging  to  me 
in  all  this  land." 

"  I  will  take  you  to  a  lady  who  has  daughters," 
said  Deronda,  immediately.  He  felt  a  sort  of  relief 
in  gathering  that  the  wretched  home  and  cruel  friends 
he  imagined  lier  to  be  fleeing  from  were  not  in  the 


MEETING  STREAMS.  261 

near  background.  Still  she  hesitated,  and  said  more 
timidly  than  ever,  — 

"  Do  you  belong  to  the  theatre  ? " 

"No;  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  theatre," 
said  Deronda,  in  a  decided  tone.  Then  beseech- 
ingly, "  I  will  put  you  in  perfect  safety  at  once : 
with  a  lady,  a  good  woman ;  I  am  sure  she  will  be 
kind.  Let  us  lose  no  time :  you  will  make  yourself 
ill.  Life  may  still  become  sweet  to  you.  There  are 
good  people  —  there  are  good  women  who  will  take 
care  of  you." 

She  drew  backward  no  more,  but  stepped  in  easily, 
as  if  she  were  used  to  such  action,  and  sat  down  on 
the  cushions. 

"  You  had  a  covering  for  your  head,"  said  Deronda. 

"  My  hat  ? "  (she  lifted  up  her  hands  to  her  head.) 
"  It  is  quite  hidden  in  the  bush." 

"  I  will  find  it,"  said  Deronda,  putting  out  his 
hand  deprecatingly  as  she  attempted  to  rise.  "  The 
boat  is  fixed." 

He  jumped  out,  found  the  hat,  and  lifted  up  the 
saturated  cloak,  wringing  it  and  throwing  it  into 
the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

"  We  must  carry  the  cloak  away,  to  prevent  any 
one  who  may  have  noticed  you  from  thinking  you 
have  been  drowned,"  he  said  cheerfully,  as  he  got  in 
again  and  presented  the  old  hat  to  her.  "  I  wish  I 
had  any  other  garment  than  my  coat  to  offer  you. 
But  shall  you  mind  throwing  it  over  your  shoulders 
while  we  are  on  the  water  ?  It  is  quite  an  ordinary 
thing  to  do,  wlien  people  return  late  and  are  not 
enough  provided  with  wraps."  He  'held  out  the 
coat  towards  her  with  a  smile,  and  there  came  a 
faint  melancholy  smile  in  answer,  as  she  took  it  and 
put  it  on  very  cleverly. 


262  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  I  have  some  biscuits,  —  should  you  like  them  ? " 
said  Deronda. 

"  No ;  I  cannot  eat.  I  had  still  some  money  left 
to  buy  bread." 

He  began  to  ply  his  oar  without  further  remark, 
and  they  went  along  swiftly  for  many  minutes  with- 
out speaking.  She  did  not  look  at  him,  but  was 
watcliing  the  oar,  leaning  forward  in  an  attitude  of 
repose,  as  if  she  were  beginning  to  feel  the  comfort 
of  returning  warmth  and  the  prospect  of  life  instead 
of  death.  The  twilight  was  deepening;  the  red 
flush  was  all  gone,  and  the  little  stars  were  giving 
their  answer  one  after  another.  The  moon  was 
rising,  but  was  still  entangled  among  trees  and 
buildings.  The  light  was  not  such  that  he  could 
distinctly  discern  the  expression  of  her  features  or 
her  glance,  but  they  were  distinctly  before  him 
nevertheless,  —  features  and  a  glance  which  seemed 
to  have  given  a  fuller  meaning  for  him  to  the  human 
face.  Among  his  anxieties  one  was  dominant :  his 
first  impression  about  her,  that  her  mind  might  be 
disordered,  had  not  been  quite  dissipated:  the  pro- 
ject of  suicide  was  unmistakable,  and  gave  a  deeper 
colour  to  every  other  suspicious  sign.  He  longed  to 
begin  a  conversation,  but  abstained,  wishing  to  en- 
courage the  confidence  that  might  induce  her  to 
speak  first.     At  last  she  did  speak. 

"  I  like  to  listen  to  the  oar." 

"  So  do  I." 

*'  If  you  had  not  come,  I  should  have  been  dead 
now." 

"  I  cannot  bear  you  to  speak  of  that  I  hope  you 
will  never  be  sorry  that  I  came." 

"  I  cannot  see  how  I  shall  be  glad  to  live.  The 
maggior  dolore  and  the  miseria  have  lasted  longer 


MEETING  STREAMS.  263 

than  the  tempo  felice."  She  paused,  and  then  went 
on  dreamily,  "  Dolore  —  miseria  —  I  think  those 
words  are  alive." 

Deronda  was  mute:  to  question  her  seemed  an 
unwarrantable  freedom ;  he  shrank  from  appearing 
to  claim  the  authority  of  a  benefactor,  or  to  treat 
her  with  the  less  reverence  because  she  was  in  dis- 
tress.    She  went  on  musingly,  — 

"  I  thought  it  was  not  wicked.  Death  and  life 
are  one  before  the  Eternal.  I  know  our  fathers  slew 
their  children  and  then  slew  themselves,  to  keep 
their  souls  pure.  I  meant  it  so.  But  now  I  am 
commanded  to  live.     I  cannot  see  how  I  shall  live." 

"  You  will  find  friends.     I  will  find  them  for  you." 

She  shook  her  head  and  said  mournfully,  "Not 
my  mother  and  brother.     I  cannot  find  them." 

"You  are  English?  You  must  be,  —  speaking 
English  so  perfectly." 

She  did  not  answer  immediately,  but  looked  at 
Deronda  again,  straining  to  see  him  in  the  doubtful 
light.  Until  now  she  had  been  watching  the  oar. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  were  half  roused,  and  wondered 
which  part  of  her  impressions  was  dreaming  and 
which  waking.  Sorrowful  isolation  had  benumbed 
her  sense  of  reality,  and  the  power  of  distinguish- 
ing outward  and  inward  was  continually  slipping 
away  from  her.  Her  look  was  full  of  wondering 
timidity,  such  as  the  forsaken  one  in  the  desert 
might  have  lifted  to  the  angelic  vision  before  she 
knew  whether  his  message  were  in  anger  or  in  pity. 

"  You  want  to  know  if  I  am  English  ? "  she  said 
at  last,  while  Deronda  was  reddening  nervously 
under  a  gaze  which  he  felt  more  fully  than  he  saw. 

"  I  want  to  know  nothing  except  what  you  like 
to  tell  me,"  he  said,  still  uneasy  in  the  fear  that  her 


264  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

mind  was  wandering.  "  Perhaps  it  is  not  good  for 
you  to  talk." 

"  Yes,  I  will  tell  you.  I  am  English-born.  But 
I  am  a  Jewess." 

Deronda  was  silent,  inwardly  wondering  that  he 
had  not  said  this  to  himself  before,  though  any  one 
who  had  seen  delicate-faced  Spanish  girls  might 
simply  have  guessed  her  to  be  Spanish. 

"  Do  you  despise  me  for  it  ?  "  she  said  presently, 
in  low  tones,  which  had  a  sadness  that  pierced  like 
a  cry  from  a  small  dumb  creature  in  fear. 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  said  Deronda.  "  I  am  not  so 
foolish." 

"I  know  many  Jews  are  bad." 

"  So  are  many  Christians.  But  I  should  not  think 
it  fair  for  you  to  despise  me  because  of  that." 

"  My  mother  and  brother  were  good.  But  I  shall 
never  find  them.  I  am  come  a  long  way  —  from 
abroad.  I  ran  away ;  but  I  cannot  tell  you  —  I  can- 
not speak  of  it.  I  thought  I  might  find  my  mother 
again  —  God  would  guide  me.  But  then  I  de- 
spaired. This  moruing  when  the  light  came,  I  felt 
as  if  one  word  kept  sounding  within  me,  —  Never  I 
never  !  But  now  —  I  begin  —  to  think  —  "  her  words 
were  broken  by  rising  sobs  —  "I  am  commanded  to 
live  —  perhaps  we  are  going  to  her." 

With  an  outburst  of  weeping  she  buried  her  head 
on  her  knees.  He  hoped  that  this  passionate  weep- 
ing might  relieve  her  excitement.  Meanwhile  he 
was  inwardly  picturing  in  much  embarrassment  how 
he  should  present  himself  with  her  in  Park  Lane,  — 
the  course  which  he  had  at  first  unreflectingly  deter- 
mined on.  No  one  kinder  and  more  gentle  than 
lAdy  Mallinger ;  but  it  was  hardly  probable  that 
she  would  be  at  home  j  and  he  had  a  shuddering 


MEETING  STREAMS.  265 

sense  of  a  lackey  staring  at  this  delicate,  sorrowful 
'  image  of  womanhood,  —  of  glaring  lights  and  fine 
staircases,  and  perhaps  chilling  suspicious  manners 
from  lady's-maid  and  housekeeper,  that  might  scare 
the  mind  already  in  a  state  of  dangerous  suscepti- 
bility. But  to  take  her  to  any  other  shelter  than  a 
home  already  known  to  him  was  not  to  be  contem- 
plated :  he  was  full  of  fears  about  the  issue  of  the 
adventure  which  had  brought  on  him  a  responsi- 
bility all  the  heavier  for  the  strong  and  agitating 
impression  this  childlike  creature  had  made  on  him. 
But  another  resource  came  to  mind :  he  could  ven- 
ture to  take  her  to  Mrs.  Meyrick's,  —  to  the  small 
home  at  Chelsea,  where  he  had  been  often  enough 
since  his  return  from  abroad  to  feel  sure  that  he 
could  appeal  there  to  generous  hearts,  which  had  a 
romantic  readiness  to  believe  in  innocent  need  and 
to  help  it.  Hans  Meyrick  was  safe  away  in  Italy, 
and  Deronda  felt  the  comfort  of  presenting  himself 
with  his  charge  at  a  house  where  he  would  be 
met  by  a  motherly  figure  of  quakerish  neatness,  and 
three  girls  who  hardly  knew  of  any  evil  closer  to 
them  than  what  lay  in  history  books  and  dramas, 
and  would  at  once  associate  a  lovely  Jewess  with 
Rebecca  in  "  Ivanhoe,"  besides  thinking  that  every- 
thing they  did  at  Deronda's  request  would  be  done 
for  their  idol,  Hans.  The  vision  of  the  Chelsea  home 
once  raised,  Deronda  no  longer  hesitated. 

The  rumbling  thither  in  the  cab  after  the  still- 
ness of  the  water  seemed  long.  Happily  his  charge 
had  been  quiet  since  her  fit  of  weeping,  and  sub- 
mitted like  a  tired  child.  When  they  were  in  the 
cab,  she  laid  down  her  hat  and  tried  to  rest  her 
head,  but  the  jolting  movement  would  not  let  it 
rest :  still  she  dozed,  and  her  sweet  head  hung  help- 
less first  on  one  side,  then  on  the  other. 


266  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  They  are  too  good  to  have  any  fear  about  taking 
her  in,"  thought  Deronda.  Her  person,  her  voice, 
her  exquisite  utterance,  were  one  strong  appeal  to 
belief  and  tenderness.  Yet  what  had  been  the 
history  which  had  brought  her  to  this  desolation  ? 
He  was  going  on  a  strange  errand,  —  to  ask  shelter 
for  this  waif.  Then  there  occurred  to  him  the 
beautiful  story  Plutarch  somewhere  tells  of  the 
Delphic  women :  how  when  the  Maenads,  outworn 
with  their  torch-lit  wanderings,  lay  down  to  sleep 
in  the  market-place,  the  matrons  came  and  stood 
silently  round  them  to  keep  guard  over  their  slum- 
bers; then,  when  they  waked,  ministered  to  them 
tenderly  and  saw  them  safely  to  their  own  borders. 
He  could  trust  the  women  he  was  going  to  for 
having  hearts  as  good. 

Deronda  felt  himself  growing  older  this  evening 
and  entering  on  a  new  phase  in  finding  a  life  to 
which  his  own  had  come  —  perhaps  as  a  rescue  ? 
But  how  to  make  sure  that  snatching  from  death 
was  rescue?  The  moment  of  finding  a  fellow-crea- 
ture is  often  as  full  of  mingled  doubt  and  exultation 
as  the  moment  of  finding  an  idea. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"  Life  is  a  various  mother  :  now  she  dons 
Her  plumes  and  brilliants,  climbs  the  marble  stairs 
With  head  aloft,  nor  ever  turns  her  eyes 
On  lackeys  who  attend  her ;  now  she  dwells 
Grim-clad  up  darksome  alleys,  breathes  hot  gin, 
And  screams  in  pauper  riot. 

But  to  these 
She  came  a  frugal  matron,  neat  and  deft. 
With  cheerful  morning  thoughts  and  quick  device 
To  find  the  much  in  little." 

Mrs.  Meyrick's  house  was  not  noisy :  the  front 
parlour  looked  on  the  river,  and  the  back  on  gardens, 
so  that  though  she  was  reading  aloud  to  her  daugh- 
ters, the  window  could  be  left  open  to  freshen  the 
air  of  the  small  double  room  where  a  lamp  and 
two  candles  were  burning.  The  candles  were  on  a 
table  apart  for  Kate,  who  was  drawing  illustrations 
for  a  publisher;  the  lamp  was  not  only  for  the 
reader,  but  for  Amy  and  Mab,  who  were  embroider- 
ing satin  cushions  for  "  the  great  world." 

Outside,  the  house  looked  very  narrow  and  shabby, 
the  bright  light  through  the  holland  blind  showing 
the  heavy  old-fashioned  window-frame ;  but  it  is 
pleasant  to  know  that  many  such  grim-walled  slices 
of  space  in  our  foggy  London  have  been,  and  still  are 
the  homes  of  a  culture  the  more  spotlessly  free  from 
vulgarity,  because  poverty  had  rendered  everything 
like  display  an  impersonal  question,  and  all  the  grand 
shows  of  the  world  simply  a  spectacle  which  rouses 
no  petty  rivalry  or  vain  effort  after  possession. 


268  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

The  Meyricks*  was  a  home  of  that  kind;  and 
they  all  clung  to  this  particular  house  in  a  row 
because  its  interior  was  filled  with  objects  always 
in  the  same  places,  which  for  the  mother  held 
memories  of  her  marriage  time,  and  for  the  young 
ones  seemed  as  necessary  and  uncriticised  a  part  of 
their  world  as  the  stars  of  the  Great  Bear  seen  from 
the  back  windows.  Mrs.  Meyrick  had  borne  much 
stint  of  other  matters  that  she  might  be  able  to 
keep  some  engravings  specially  cherished  by  her 
husband ;  and  the  narrow  spaces  of  wall  held  a 
world-history  in  scenes  and  heads  which  the  chil- 
dren had  early  learned  by  heart.  The  chairs  and 
tables  were  also  old  friends  preferred  to  new.  But 
in  these  two  little  parlours  with  no  furniture  that  a 
broker  would  have  cared  to  cheapen  except  the 
prints  and  piano,  there  was  space  and  apparatus 
for  a  wide-glancing,  nicely  select  life,  open  to  the 
highest  things  in  music,  painting,  and  poetry.  I  am 
not  sure  that  in  the  times  of  greatest  scarcity,  before 
Kate  could  get  paid  work,  these  ladies  had  always 
had  a  servant  to  light  their  fires  and  sweep  their 
rooms ;  yet  they  were  fastidious  in  some  points,  and 
could  not  believe  that  the  manners  of  ladies  in  the 
fashionable  world  were  so  full  of  coarse  selfishness, 
petty  quarrelling,  and  slang  as  they  are  represented 
to  be  in  what  are  called  literary  photographs.  The 
Meyricks  had  their  little  oddities,  streaks  of  eccen- 
tricity from  the  mother's  blood  as  well  as  the  father's, 
their  minds  being  like  mediieval  houses  with  unex- 
pected recesses  and  openings  from  this  into  that, 
flights  of  steps  and  sudden  outlooks. 

But  mother  and  daughters  were  all  united  by  a 
triple  bond,  —  family  love  ;  admiration  for  the  finest 
work,  the  best  action ;  and  habitual  industry.    Hans'a 


^lEETING  STREAMS.  269 

desire  to  spend  some  of  his  money  in  making  their 
lives  more  luxurious  had  been  resisted  by  all  of 
them,  and  both  they  and  he  had  been  thus  saved 
from  regrets  at  the  threatened  triumph  of  his  yearn- 
ing for  art  over  the  attractions  of  secured  income,  — 
a  triumph  that  would  by  and  by  oblige  him  to  give 
up  his  fellowship.  They  could  all  afford  to  laugh  at 
his  Gavarni-caricatures,  and  to  hold  him  blameless 
in  following  a  natural  bent  which  their  unselfish- 
ness and  independence  had  left  without  obstacle. 
It  was  enough  for  them  to  go  on  in  their  old  way, 
only  having  a  grand  treat  of  opera-going  (to  the 
gallery)  when  Hans  came  home  on  a  visit. 

Seeing  the  group  they  made  this  evening,  one  could 
hardly  wish  them  to  change  their  way  of  life.  They 
were  all  alike  small,  and  so  in  due  proportion  with 
their  miniature  rooms.  Mrs.  Meyrick  was  reading 
aloud  from  a  French  book :  she  was  a  lively  little 
woman,  half  French,  half  Scotch,  with  a  pretty  artic- 
ulateness  of  speech  that  seemed  to  make  daylight 
in  her  hearer's  understanding.  Though  she  was  not 
yet  fifty,  her  rippling  hair,  covered  by  a  quakerish 
net  cap,  was  chiefly  gray,  but  her  eyebrows  were 
brown  as  the  bright  eyes  below  them ;  her  black 
dress,  almost  like  a  priest's  cassock  with  its  row  of 
buttons,  suited  a  neat  figure  hardly  five  feet  high. 
The  daughters  were  to  match  the  mother,  except 
that  Mab  had  Hans's  light  hair  and  complexion, 
with  a  bossy  irregular  brow  and  other  quaintnesses 
that  reminded  one  of  him.  Everything  about  them 
was  compact,  from  the  firm  coils  of  their  hair, 
fastened  back  h  la  Chinoise,  to  their  gray  skirts  in 
puritan  nonconformity  with  the  fashion,  which  at  that 
time  would  have  demanded  that  four  feminine  cir- 
cumferences should  fill  all  the  free  space  in  the  front 


270  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

parlour.  All  four,  if  they  had  been  wax-work,  might 
have  been  packed  easily  in  a  fashionable  lady's 
travelling  trunk.  Their  faces  seemed  full  of  speech, 
as  if  their  minds  had  been  shelled,  after  the  manner 
of  horse-chestnuts,  and  become  brightly  visible. 
The  only  large  thing  of  its  kind  in  the  room  was 
Hafiz,  the  Persian  cat,  comfortably  poised  on  the 
brown  leather  back  of  a  chair,  and  opening  his  large 
eyes  now  and  then  to  see  that  the  lower  animals  were 
not  in  any  mischief. 

The  book  Mrs.  Meyrick  had  before  her  was 
Erckmann-Chatrian's  Histoire  cCun  Conscrit.  She 
had  just  finished  reading  it  aloud,  and  Mab,  who 
had  let  her  work  fall  on  the  ground  while  she 
stretched  her  head  forward  and  fixed  her  eyes  on 
the  reader,  exclaimed,  — 

"  I  think  that  is  the  finest  story  in  the  world." 

"  Of  course,  Mab  ! "  said  Amy ;  "  it  is  the  last  you 
have  heard.  Everything  that  pleases  you  is  the 
best  in  its  turn." 

"  It  is  hardly  to  be  called  a  story,"  said  Kate.  "  It 
is  a  bit  of  history  brought  near  us  with  a  strong 
telescope.  We  can  see  the  soldiers'  faces :  no,  it  is 
more  than  that,  —  we  can  hear  everything,  —  we  can 
almost  hear  their  hearts  beat." 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  call  it,"  said  Mab,  flirting 
away  her  thimble.  "Call  it  a  chapter  in  Revela- 
tions. It  makes  me  want  to  do  something  good, 
something  grand.  It  makes  me  so  sorry  for  every- 
body. It  makes  me  like  Schiller,  —  I  want  to  take 
the  world  in  my  arms  and  kiss  it.  I  must  kiss  you 
instead,  little  mother ! "  She  threw  her  arms  round 
her  mother's  neck. 

"Whenever  you  are  in  that  mood,  Mab,  down 
goes  your  work,"  said  Amy.     "It  would  be  doing 


MEETING  STREAMS.  271 

something  good  to  finish  your  cushion  without  soil- 
ing it." 

"  Oh  —  oh  —  oh  !  "  groaned  Mab,  as  she  stooped 
to  pick  up  her  work  and  thimble.  "  I  wish  I  had 
three  wounded  conscripts  to  take  care  of." 

"  You  would  spill  their  beef-tea  while  you  were 
talking,"  said  Amy. 

"  Poor  Mab !  don't  be  hard  on  her,"  said  the 
mother.  "  Give  me  the  embroidery  now,  child. 
You  go  on  with  your  enthusiasm,  and  I  will  go  on 
with  the  pink  and  white  poppy." 

"Well,  ma,  I  think  you  are  more  caustic  than 
Amy,"  said  Kate,  while  she  drew  her  head  back  to 
look  at  her  drawing. 

"  Oh  —  oh  —  oh  !  "  cried  Mab  again,  rising  and 
stretching  her  arms.  "  I  wish  something  wonder- 
ful would  happen.  I  feel  like  the  deluge.  The 
waters  of  the  great  deep  are  broken  up,  and  the 
windows  of  heaven  are  opened.  I  must  sit  down 
and  play  the  scales." 

Mab  was  opening  the  piano  while  the  others 
were  laughing  at  this  climax,  when  a  cab  stopped 
before  the  house,  and  there  forthwith  came  a  quick 
rap  of  the  knocker. 

"  Dear  me  ! "  said  Mrs.  Meyrick,  starting  up,  "  it 
is  after  ten,  and  Phoebe  is  gone  to  bed."  She  has- 
tened out,  leaving  the  parlour  door  open. 

"  Mr.  Deronda  ! "  The  girls  could  hear  this 
exclamation  from  their  mamma.  Mab  clasped  her 
hands,  saying  in  a  loud  whisper,  "There  now! 
something  is  going  to  happen ; "  Kate  and  Amy 
gave  up  their  work  in  amazement.  But  Deronda's 
tone  in  reply  was  so  low  that  they  could  not  hear 
his  words,  and  Mrs.  Meyrick  immediately  closed 
the  parlour  door. 


272  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"I  know  I  am  trusting  to  your  goodness  in  a 
most  extraordinary  way,"  Deronda  went  on,  after 
giving  his  brief  narrative,  "  but  you  can  imagine 
how  helpless  I  feel  with  a  young  creature  like  this 
on  my  hands.  I  could  not  go  with  her  among 
strangers,  and  in  her  nervous  state  I  should  dread 
taking  her  into  a  house  full  of  servants.  I  have 
trusted  to  your  mercy.  I  hope  you  will,  not  think 
my  act  unwarrantable." 

"  On  the  contrary.  You  have  honoured  me  by 
trusting  me.  I  see  your  difficulty.  Pray  bring  her 
in.     I  will  go  and  prepare  the  girls." 

"While  Deronda  went  back  to  the  cab,  Mrs. 
Meyrick  turned  into  the  parlour  again  and  said, 
"  Here  is  somebody  to  take  care  of  instead  of  your 
wounded  conscripts,  Mab :  a  poor  girl  who  was 
going  to  drown  herself  in  despair.  Mr.  Deronda 
found  her  only  just  in  time  to  save  her.  He 
brought  her  along  in  his  boat,  and  did  not  know 
what  else  it  would  be  safe  to  do  with  her,  so  he  has 
trusted  us  and  brought  her  here.  It  seems  she  is 
a  Jewess,  but  quite  refined,  he  says,  —  knowing 
Italian  and  music." 

The  three  girls,  wondering  and  expectant,  came 
forward  and  stood  near  each  other  in  mute  confidence 
that  they  were  all  feeling  alike  under  this  appeal 
to  their  compassion.  Mab  looked  rather  awe-stricken , 
as  if  this  answer  to  her  wish  were  something 
preternatural. 

Meanwhile  Deronda,  going  to  the  door  of  the  cab 
where  the  pale  face  was  now  gazing  out  with  roused 
observation,  said,  "  I  have  brought  you  to  some  of 
the  kindest  people  in  the  world :  there  are  daughters 
like  you.  It  is  a  happy  home.  Will  you  let  me 
take  you  to  them  ? " 


MEETING  STREAMS.  273 

She  stepped  out  obediently,  putting  her  hand  in 
his  and  forgetting  lier  hat ;  and  when  Deronda  led 
her  into  the  full  light  of  the  parlour  where  the  four 
little  women  stood  awaiting  her,  she  made  a  picture 
that  would  have  stirred  much  duller  sensibilities 
than  theirs.  At  first  she  was  a  little  dazed  by  the 
sudden  light,  and  before  she  had  concentrated  her 
glance  he  had  put  her  hand  into  the  mother's.  He 
was  inwardly  rejoicing  that  the  Mey ricks  were  so 
small :  the  dark-curled  head  was  the  highest  among 
them.  The  poor  wanderer  could  not  be  afraid  of 
these  gentle  faces  so  near  hers ;  and  now  she  was 
looking  at  each  of  them  in  turn  while  the  mother 
said,  "  You  must  be  weary,  poor  child." 

"  We  will  take  care  of  you,  —  we  will  comfort  you, 
—  we  will  love  you,"  cried  Mab,  no  longer  able  to 
restrain  herself,  and  taking  the  small  right  hand 
caressingly  between  both  her  own.  This  gentle 
welcoming  warmth  was  penetrating  the  bewildered 
one  :  she  hung  back  just  enough  to  see  better  the 
four  faces  in  front  of  her,  whose  good-will  was 
being  reflected  in  hers,  not  in  any  smile,  but  in  that 
undefinable  change  which  tells  us  that  anxiety  is 
passing  into  contentment.  For  an  instant  she 
looked  up  at  Deronda,  as  if  she  were  referring  all 
this  mercy  to  him,  and  then  again  turning  to  Mrs. 
Meyrick,  said  with  more  coUectedness  in  her  sweet 
tones  than  he  had  heard  before,  — 

"  I  am  a  stranger.  I  am  a  Jewess.  You  might 
have  thought  I  was  wicked." 

"  No,  we  are  sure  you  are  good,"  burst  out  Mab. 

"  "We  think  no  evil  of  you,  poor  child.  You  shall 
be  safe  with  us,"  said  Mrs.  Meyrick.  "  Come  now 
and  sit  down.  You  must  have  some  food,  and  then 
go  to  rest." 

VOL.  I.  — 18 


274  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

The  stranger  looked  up  again  at  Deronda,  who 
said,  — 

"  You  will  have  no  more  fears  with  these  friends  ? 
You  will  rest  to-night  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  should  not  fear.  I  should  rest  I  think 
these  are  the  ministering  angels." 

Mrs.  Meyrick  wanted  to  lead  her  to  a  seat,  but 
again  hanging  back  gently,  the  poor  weary  thing 
spoke  as  if  with  a  scruple  at  being  received  without 
a  further  account  of  herself :  — 

"  My  name  is  Mirali  Lapidoth.  I  am  come  a 
long  way,  all  the  way  from  Prague  by  myself.  I 
made  my  escape.  I  ran  away  from  dreadful  things. 
I  came  to  find  my  mother  and  brother  in  London. 
I  had  been  taken  from  my  mother  when  I  was  lit- 
tle, but  I  thought  I  could  find  her  again.  I  had 
trouble,  —  the  houses  were  all  gone,  —  I  could  not 
find  her.  It  has  been  a  long  while,  and  I  had  not 
much  money.     That  is  why  I  am  in  distress." 

"  Our  mother  will  be  good  to  you,"  cried  Mab. 
"  See  what  a  nice  little  mother  she  is  ! " 

"Do  sit  down  now,"  said  Kate,  moving  a  chair 
forward,  while  Amy  ran  to  get  some  tea. 

Mirah  resisted  no  longer,  but  seated  herself  with 
perfect  grace,  crossing  her  little  feet,  laying  her 
hands  one  over  the  other  on  her  lap,  and  looking  at 
her  friends  with  placid  reverence ;  whereupon  Hafiz, 
who  had  been  watching  the  scene  restlessly,  came 
forward  with  tail  erect  and  rubbed  himself  against 
her  ankles.     Deronda  felt  it  time  to  take  his  leave. 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  come  again  and  inquire 
—  perhaps  at  five  to-morrow  ? "  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Meyrick. 

"  Yes,  pray  ;  we  shall  have  had  time  to  make 
acquaintance  then." 


MEETING  STREAMS.  275 

"  Good-by,"  said  Deronda,  looking  down  at  Mirah, 
and  putting  out  his  hand.  She  rose  as  she  took  it, 
and  the  moment  brought  back  to  them  both  strongly 
the  other  moment  when  she  had  first  taken  that 
outstretched  hand.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  and 
said  with  reverential  fervour :  "  The  God  of  our 
fathers  bless  you  and  deliver  you  from  all  evil  as  you 
have  delivered  me.  I  did  not  believe  there  was  any 
man  so  good.  None  before  have  thought  me  worthy 
of  the  best.  You  found  me  poor  and  miserable,  yet 
you  have  given  me  the  best." 

Deronda  could  not  speak,  but  with  silent  adieux 
to  the  Meyricks,  hurried  away. 


BOOK  in. 

MAIDENS    CHOOSING. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

pity  the  man  who  can  travel  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  and 
say, "  'T 18  all  barren  ;  "  and  so  it  is  :  and  so  is  all  the  world  to  him 
who  will  not  cultivate  the  f raits  it  offers.  —  Sterne  :  Sentimental 
Journey. 

To  say  that  Deronda  was  romantic  would  be  to 
misrepresent  him;  but  under  his  calm  and  some- 
what self-repressed  exterior  there  was  a  fervour 
which  made  him  easily  find  poetry  and  romance 
among  the  events  of  every -day  life  And  perhaps 
poetry  and  romance  are  as  plentiful  as  ever  in  the 
world  except  for  those  phlegmatic  natures  who  I 
suspect  would  in  any  age  have  regarded  them  as  a 
dull  form  of  erroneous  thinking.  They  exist  very 
easily  in  the  same  room  with  the  microscope  and 
even  in  railway  carriages :  what  banishes  them  is 
the  vacuum  in  gentlemen  and  lady  passengers. 
How  should  all  the  apparatus  of  heaven  and  earth, 
from  the  farthest  firmament  to  the  tender  bosom  of 
the  mother  who  nourished  us,  make  poetry  for  a 
mind  that  has  no  movements  of  awe  and  tender- 
ness, no  sense  of  fellowship  which  thrills  from  the 
near  to  the  distant,  and  back  again  from  the  dis- 
tant to  the  near? 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  277 

To  Deronda  this  event  of  finding  Mirali  was  as 
heart-stirring  as  anything  that  befell  Orestes  or 
Einaldo.  He  sat  up  half  the  night,  living  again 
through  the  moments  since  he  had  first  discerned 
Mirah  on  the  river-brink,  with  the  fresh  and 
fresh  vividness  which  belongs  to  emotive  memory. 
When  he  took  up  a  book  to  try  and  dull  this 
urgency  of  inward  vision,  the  printed  words  were 
no  more  than  a  network  through  which  he  saw  and 
heard  everything  as  clearly  as  before,  —  saw  not 
only  the  actual  events  of  two  hours,  but  possibili- 
ties of  what  had  been  and  what  might  be  which 
those  events  were  enough  to  feed  with  the  warm 
blood  of  passionate  hope  and  fear.  Something  in 
his  own  experience  caused  Mirah 's  search  after  her 
mother  to  lay  hold  with  peculiar  force  on  his  im- 
agination. The  first  prompting  of  sympathy  was 
to  aid  her  in  the  search :  if  given  persons  were 
extant  in  London,  there  were  ways  of  finding  them, 
as  subtle  as  scientific  experiment,  the  right  machin- 
ery being  set  at  work.  But  here  the  mixed  feelings 
which  belonged  to  Deronda 's  kindred  experience 
naturally  transfused  themselves  into  his  anxiety 
on  behalf  of  Mirah. 

The  desire  to  know  his  own  mother,  or  to  know 
about  her,  was  constantly  haunted  with  dread; 
and  in  imagining  what  might  befall  Mirah  it 
quickly  occurred  to  him  that  finding  the  mother 
and  brother  from  whom  she  had  been  parted  when 
she  was  a  little  one  might  turn  out  to  be  a  calam- 
ity. When  she  was  in  the  boat  she  said  that  her 
mother  and  brother  were  good;  but  the  goodness 
might  have  been  chiefly  in  her  own  ignorant  inno- 
cence and  yearning  memory,  and  the  ten  or  twelve 
years  since  the  parting  had  been  time  enough  for 


278  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

much  worsening.  Spite  of  his  strong  tendency  to 
side  with  the  objects  of  prejudice,  and  in  general 
with  those  who  got  the  worst  of  it,  his  interest 
had  never  been  practically  drawn  towards  existing 
Jews ;  and  the  facts  he  knew  about  them,  whether 
they  walked  conspicuous  in  fine  apparel  or  lurked 
in  by-streets,  were  chiefly  of  the  sort  most  repug- 
nant to  him.  Of  learned  and  accomplished  Jews 
he  took  it  for  granted  that  they  had  dropped  their 
religion,  and  wished  to  be  merged  in  the  people  of 
their  native  lands.  Scorn  flung  at  a  Jew  as  such 
would  have  roused  all  his  sympathy  in  griefs  of 
inheritance;  but  the  indiscriminate  scorn  of  a  race 
will  often  strike  a  specimen  who  has  well  earned  it 
on  his  own  account,  and  might  fairly  be  gibbeted 
as  a  rascally  son  of  Adam.  It  appears  that  the 
Caribs,  who  know  little  of  theology,  regard  thiev- 
ing as  a  practice  peculiarly  connected  with  Chris- 
tian tenets,  and  probably  they  could  allege 
experimental  grounds  for  this  opinion.  Deronda 
could  not  escape  (who  can  ?)  knowing  ugly  stories 
of  Jewish  characteristics  and  occupations;  and 
though  one  of  his  favourite  protests  was  against 
the  severance  of  past  and  present  history,  he  was 
like  others  who  shared  his  protest,  in  never  hav- 
ing cared  to  reach  any  more  special  conclusions 
about  actual  Jews  than  that  they  retained  the 
virtues  and  vices  of  a  long-oppressed  race.  But 
now  that  Mirah's  longing  roused  his  mind  to  a 
closer  survey  of  details,  very  disagreeable  images 
urged  themselves  of  what  it  might  be  to  find 
out  this  middle-aged  Jewess  and  her  son.  To 
be  sure,  there  was  the  exquisite  refinement  and 
charm  of  the  creature  herself  to  make  a  pre- 
sumption  in   favour   of    her   immediate   kindred, 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  279 

but  —  he  must  wait  to  know  more  :  perhaps  through 
Mrs.  Meyrick  he  might  gather  some  guiding  hints 
from  Mirah's  own  lipa  Her  voice,  her  accent, 
her  looks,  —  all  the  sweet  purity  that  clothed  her  as 
with  a  consecrating  garment,  made  him  shrink  the 
more  from  giving  her,  either  ideally  or  practically, 
an  association  with  what  was  hateful  or  contami- 
nating. But  these  fine  words  with  which  we 
fumigate  and  becloud  unpleasant  facts  are  not  the 
language  in  which  we  think.  Deronda's  thinking, 
went  on  in  rapid  images  of  what  might  be :  he  saw 
himself  guided  by  some  official  scout  into  a  dingy 
street;  he  entered  through  a  dim  doorway,  and 
saw  a  hawk-eyed  woman,  rough -headed,  and  un- 
washed, cheapening  a  hungry  girl's  last  bit  of 
finery ;  or  in  some  quarter  only  the  more  hideous 
for  being  smarter,  he  found  himself  under  the 
breath  of  a  young  Jew,  talkative  and  familiar,  will- 
ing to  show  his  acquaintance  with  gentlemen's 
tastes,  and  not  fastidious  in  any  transactions  with 
which  they  would  favour  him,  —  and  so  on  through 
the  brief  chapter  of  his  experience  in  this  kind. 
Excuse  him :  his  mind  was  not  apt  to  run  sponta- 
neously into  insulting  ideas,  or  to  practise  a  form 
of  wit  which  identifies  Moses  with  the  advertise- 
ment sheet ;  but  he  was  just  now  governed  by 
dread,  and  if  Mirah's  parents  had  been  Christian, 
the  chief  difference  would  have  been  that  his  fore- 
bodings would  have  been  fed  with  wider  knowl- 
edga  It  was  the  habit  of  his  mind  to  connect 
dread  with  unknown  parentage,  and  in  this  case  as 
well  as  his  own  there  was  enough  to  make  the 
connection  reasonable. 

But  what  was  to  be  done  with  Mirah  ?      She 
needed  shelter  and  protection  in  the  fullest  sense, 


28o  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

and  all  his  chivalrous  sentiment  roused  itself  to 
insist  that  the  sooner  and  the  more  fully  he  could 
engage  for  her  the  interest  of  others  besides  him- 
self, the  better  he  should  fulfil  her  claims  on  him. 
He  had  no  right  to  provide  for  her  entirely,  though 
he  might  be  able  to  do  so ;  the  very  depth  of  the 
impression  she  had  produced  made  him  desire  that 
she  should  understand  herself  to  be  entirely  inde- 
pendent of  him ;  and  vague  visions  of  the  future 
which  he  tried  to  dispel  as  fantastic  left  their  in- 
fluence in  an  anxiety  stronger  than  any  motive  he 
could  give  for  it,  that  tliose  who  saw  his  actions 
closely  should  be  acquainted  from  the  first  with  the 
history  of  his  relation  to  Mirah.  He  had  learned  to 
hate  secrecy  about  the  grand  ties  and  obligations 
of  his  life,  —  to  hate  it  the  more  because  a  strong 
spell  of  interwoven  sensibilities  hindered  him  from 
breaking  such  secrecy.  Deronda  had  made  a  vow 
to  himself  that  —  since  the  truths  which  disgrace 
mortals  are  not  all  of  their  own  making  —  the 
truth  should  never  be  made  a  disgrace  to  another 
by  his  act.  He  was  not  without  terror  lest  he 
should  break  this  vow,  and  fall  into  the  apologetic 
philosophy  which  explains  the  world  into  contain- 
ing nothing  better  than  one's  own  conduct. 

At  one  moment  he  resolved  to  tell  the  whole  of 
his  adventure  to  Sir  Hugo  and  Lady  Mallinger  the 
next  morning  at  breakfast;  but  the  possibility  that 
something  quite  new  might  reveal  itself  on  his 
next  visit  to  Mrs.  Meyrick's  checked  this  impulse, 
and  he  finally  went  to  sleep  on  the  conclusion  that 
he  would  wait  until  that  visit  had  been  made. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

It  will  hardly  bb  denied  that  even  in  this  frail  and  corrupted 
world  Ave  sometimes  meet  persons  who  in  their  very  mien  and 
aspect,  as  well  as  in  the  whole  habit  of  life,  manifest  such  a  signa- 
ture and  stamp  of  virtue  as  to  make  our  judgment  of  them  a 
matter  of  intuition  rather  than  the  result  of  continued  examina- 
tion.—  Alexander  Knox;  quoted  in  Southey's  Life  of  Wesley. 

MiRAH  said  that  she  had  slept  well  that  night; 
and  when  she  came  down  in  Mab's  black  dress,  her 
dark  hair  curling  in  fresh  fibrils  as  it  gradually  dried 
from  its  plenteous  bath,  she  looked  like  one  who 
was  beginning  to  take  comfort  after  the  long  sorrow 
and  watching  which  had  paled  her  cheek  and  made 
deep  blue  semicircles  under  her  eyes.  It  was  Mab 
who  carried  her  breakfast  and  ushered  her  down, — • 
with  some  pride  in  the  effect  produced  by  a  pair  of 
tiny  felt  slippers  which  she  had  rushed  out  to 
buy  because  there  were  no  shoes  in  the  house  small 
enough  for  Mirah,  whose  borrowed  dress  ceased 
about  her  ankles,  and  displayed  the  cheap  clothing 
that  moulding  itself  on  her  feet  seemed  an  adorn- 
ment as  choice  as  the  sheaths  of  buds.  The  far- 
thing buckles  were  bijoux. 

"  Oh,  if  you  please,  mamma !  "  cried  Mab,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  and  stooping  towards  Mirah 's  feet, 
as  she  entered  the  parlour;  "  look  at  the  slippers, 
how  beautifully  they  fit!  I  declare  she  is  like 
the  Queen  Budoor,  — '  two  delicate  feet,  the  work 
of  the  protecting  and  all-recompensing  Creator, 
support  her ;  and  I  wonder  how  they  can  sustain 
what  is  above  them. '  " 


482  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

Mirah  looked  down  at  her  own  feet  in  a  child- 
like way,  and  then  smiled  at  Mrs.  Meyrick,  who 
was  saying  inwardly,  "  One  could  hardly  imagine 
this  creature  having  an  evil  thought;  but  wise 
people  would  tell  me  to  be  cautious. "  She  re- 
turned Mirah 's  smile  and  said,  "  I  fear  the  feet 
have  had  to  sustain  their  burthen  a  little  too  often 
lately.  But  to-day  she  will  rest  and  be  my 
companion. " 

"  And  she  will  tell  you  so  many  things  and  I 
shall  not  hear  them,"  grumbled  Mab,  who  felt 
herself  in  the  first  volume  of  a  delightful  romance 
and  obliged  to  miss  some  chapters  because  she  had 
to  go  to  pupils. 

Kate  was  already  gone  to  make  sketches  along 
the  river,  and  Amy  was  away  on  business  errands. 
It  was  what  the  mother  wished,  to  be  alone  with 
this  stranger,  whose  story  must  be  a  sorrowful 
one,  yet  was  needful  to  be  told. 

The  small  front  parlour  was  as  good  as  a  temple 
that  morning.  The  sunlight  was  on  the  river,  and 
soft  air  came  in  through  the  open  window;  the 
walls  showed  a  glorious  silent  cloud  of  witnesses ; 
—  the  Virgin  soaring  amid  her  cherubic  escort ; 
grand  Melancholia  with  her  solemn  universe ;  the 
l*rophets  and  Sibyls ;  the  School  of  Athens ;  the 
Last  Supper ;  mystic  groups  where  far-off  ages  made 
one  moment ;  grave  Holbein  and  Rembrandt  heads ; 
the  Tragic  Muse ;  last-century  children  at  their 
musings  or  their  play ;  Italian  poets, —  all  were 
there  through  the  medium  of  a  little  black  and 
white.  The  neat  mother  who  had  weathered  her 
troubles,  and  come  out  of  them  with  a  face  still 
cheerful,  was  sorting  coloured  wools  for  her  em- 
broidery.    Hafiz  purred  on  the  window-ledg(^,  the 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  283 

clock  on  the  mantelpiece  ticked  witliout  hurry, 
and  the  occasional  sound  of  wheels  seemed  to  lie 
outside  the  more  massive  central  quiet.  Mrs. 
Meyrick  thought  that  this  quiet  might  be  the  best 
invitation  to  speech  on  the  part  of  her  companion, 
and  chose  not  to  disturb  it  by  remark.  Mirah  sat 
opposite  in  her  former  attitude,  her  hands  clasped 
on  her  lap,  her  ankles  crossed,  her  eyes  at  first 
travelling  slowly  over  the  objects  around  her,  but 
finally  resting  with  a  sort  of  placid  reverence  on 
Mrs.  Meyrick.  At  length  she  began  to  speak 
softly. 

"  I  remember  my  mother's  face  better  than  any- 
thing; yet  I  was  not  seven  when  I  was  taken 
away,  and  I  am  nineteen  now. " 

"  I  can  understand  that, "  said  Mrs.  Meyrick. 
"  There  are  some  earliest  things  that  last  the 
longest. " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was  the  earliest.  I  think  my  life 
began  with  waking  up  and  loving  my  mother's 
face :  it  was  so  near  to  me,  and  her  arms  were 
round  me,  and  she  sang  to  me.  One  hymn  she  sang 
so  often,  so  often ;  and  then  she  taught  me  to  sing 
it  with  her :  it  was  the  first  I  ever  sang.  They 
were  always  Hebrew  hymns  she  sang;  and  because 
I  never  knew  the  meaning  of  the  words  they  seemed 
full  of  nothing  but  our  love  and  happiness.  When 
I  lay  in  my  little  bed  and  it  was  all  white  above 
me,  she  used  to  bend  over  me  between  me  and  the 
white,  and  sing  in  a  sweet  low  voice.  I  can  dream 
myself  back  into  that  time  when  I  am  awake,  and 
often,  it  comes  back  to  me  in  my  sleep, —  my  hand 
is  very  little,  I  put  it  up  to  her  face  and  she  kisses 
it.  Sometimes  in  my  dream  I  begin  to  tremble 
and  think  that  we  are  both  dead  j  but  then  I  wake 


284  DANIEL.  DEKONDA. 

up  and  my  hand  lies  like  this,  and  for  a  moment 
I  hardly  know  myself.  But  if  I  could  see  my 
mother  again,  I  should  know  her.  " 

"  You  must  expect  some  change  after  twelve 
years, "  said  Mrs.  Meyrick,  gently.  "  See  my  gray 
hair:  ten  years  ago  it  was  bright  brown.  The 
days  and  the  months  pace  over  us  like  restless  little 
birds,  and  leave  the  marks  of  their  feet  back- 
wards and  forwards ;  especially  when  they  are 
like  birds  with  heavy  hearts, —  then  they  tread 
heavily. " 

"  Ah,  I  am  sure  her  heart  has  been  heavy  for 
want  of  me.  But  to  feel  her  joy  if  we  could  meet 
again,  and  I  could  make  her  know  how  I  love  her, 
and  give  her  deep  comfort  after  all  her  mourning ! 
If  that  could  be,  I  should  mind  nothing ;  I  should 
be  glad  that  I  have  lived  through  my  trouble.  I 
did  despair.  The  world  seemed  miserable  and 
wicked ;  none  helped  me  so  that  I  could  bear  their 
looks  and  words ;  I  felt  that  my  mother  was  dead, 
and  death  was  the  only  way  to  her.  But  then  in 
the  last  moment  —  yesterday,  when  I  longed  for 
the  water  to  close  over  me  —  and  I  thought  that 
death  was  the  best  image  of  mercy  —  then  goodness 
came  to  me  living,  and  I  felt  trust  in  the  living. 
And  —  it  is  strange  —  but  I  began  to  hope  that  she 
was  living  too.  And  now  I  am  with  you  —  here  — 
this  morning,  peace  and  hope  have  come  into  me 
like  a  flood.  I  want  nothing ;  I  can  wait ;  because 
I  hope  and  believe  and  am  grateful  —  oh,  so  grate- 
ful !  You  have  not  thought  evil  of  me  —  you  have 
not  despised  me. " 

Mirah  spoke  with  low -toned  fervour,  and  sat  as 
still  as  a  picture  all  the  while. 

*  Many  others  would  have  felt  as  we  do,  my 


MAIDENS  CHOOSINQ.  285 

dear, "  said  Mrs.  Meyrick,  feeling  a  mist  come  over 
her  eyes  as  she  looked  at  her  work. 

"  But  I  did  not  meet  them  —  they  did  not  come 
to  me. " 

"  How  was  it  that  you  were  taken  from  your 
mother  ?  " 

"  Ah,  I  am  a  long  while  coming  to  that.  It  is 
dreadful  to  speak  of,  yet  I  must  tell  you  —  I  must 
tell  you  everything.  My  father  —  it  was  he  who 
took  me  away.  I  thought  we  were  only  going  on 
a  little  journey ;  and  I  was  pleased.  There  was  a 
box  with  all  my  little  things  in.  But  we  went  on 
board  a  ship,  and  got  farther  and  farther  away 
from  the  land.  Then  I  was  ill ;  and  I  thought  it 
would  never  end  —  it  was  the  first  misery,  and  it 
seemed  endless.  But  at  last  we  landed.  I  knew 
nothing  then,  and  believed  what  my  father  said. 
He  comforted  me,  and  told  me  I  should  go  back  to 
my  mother.  But  it  was  America  we  had  reached, 
and  it  was  long  years  before  we  came  back  to 
Europe.  At  first  I  often  asked  my  father  when 
we  were  going  back ;  and  I  tried  to  learn  writing 
fast,  because  I  wanted  to  write  to  my  mother;  but 
one  day  when  he  found  me  trying  to  write  a  letter, 
he  took  me  on  his  knee  and  told  me  that  my 
mother  and  brother  were  dead ;  that  was  why  we 
did  not  go  back.  I  remember  my  brother  a  little  ; 
he  carried  me  once ;  but  he  was  not  always  at 
home.  I  believed  my  father  when  he  said  that 
they  were  dead.  I  saw  them  under  the  earth  when 
he  said  they  were  there,  with  their  eyes  forever 
closed.  I  never  thought  of  its  not  being  true ;  and 
I  used  to  cry  every  night  in  my  bed  for  a  long 
while.  Then  when  she  came  so  often  to  me,  in 
my  sleep,  I  thought  she  must  be  living  about  me 


286  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

though  I  could  not  always  see  her,  and  that  com- 
forted me.  I  was  never  afraid  in  the  dark,  be- 
cause of  that ;  and  very  often  in  the  day  I  used  to 
shut  my  eyes  and  bury  my  face  and  try  to  see  her 
and  to  hear  her  singing.  I  came  to  do  that  at  last 
without  shutting  my  eyes. " 

Mirah  paused  with  a  sweet  content  in  her  face, 
as  if  she  were  having  her  happy  vision,  while  she 
looked  out  towards  the  river. 

"  Still  your  father  was  not  unkind  to  you,  I 
hope,"  said  Mrs.  Meyrick,  after  a  minute,  anx- 
ious to  recall  her. 

"  No  J  he  petted  me,  and  took  pains  to  teach  me. 
He  was  an  actor;  and  I  found  out,  after,  that  the 
*  Coburg  '  I  used  to  hear  of  his  going  to  at  home 
was  a  theatre.  But  he  had  more  to  do  with  the 
theatre  than  acting.  He  had  not  always  been  an 
actor ;  he  had  been  a  teacher,  and  knew  many  lan- 
guages. His  acting  was  not  very  good,  I  think ; 
but  he  managed  the  stage,  and  wrote  and  translated 
plays.  An  Italian  lady,  a  singer,  lived  with  us  a 
long  time.  They  both  taught  me ;  and  I  had  a 
master  besides,  who  made  me  learn  by  heart  and 
recite.  I  worked  quite  hard,  though  I  was  so 
little;  and  I  was  not  nine  when  I  first  went  on 
the  stage.  I  could  easily  learn  things,  and  I  was 
not  afraid.  But  then  and  ever  since  I  hated  our 
way  of  life.  My  father  had  money,  and  we  had 
finery  about  us  in  a  disorderly  way ;  always  there 
were  men  and  women  coming  and  going,  there  was 
loud  laughing  and  disputing,  strutting,  snapping 
of  fingers,  jeering,  faces  I  did  not  like  to  look  at 
—  though  many  petted  and  caressed  me.  But  then 
I  remembered  my  mother.  Even  at  first  when  I 
understood  nothing,  I  shrank  away  from  all  those 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  287 

things  outside  me  into  companionship  with  thoughts 
that  were  not  like  them ;  and  I  gathered  thoughts 
very  fast,  because  I  read  many  things, —  plays  and 
poetry,  Shakespeare  and  Schiller,  —  and  learned 
evil  and  good.  My  father  began  to  believe  that  I 
might  be  a  great  singer :  my  voice  was  considered 
wonderful  for  a  child ;  and  he  had  the  best  teach- 
ing for  me.  But  it  was  painful  that  he  boasted  of 
me,  and  set  me  to  sing  for  show  at  any  minute,  as 
if  I  had  been  a  musical  box.  Once  when  I  was 
nine  years  old,  I  played  the  part  of  a  little  girl 
who  had  been  forsaken  and  did  not  know  it,  and 
sat  singing  to  herself  while  she  played  with  flowers. 
I  did  it  without  any  trouble ;  but  the  clapping  and 
all  the  sounds  of  the  theatre  were  hateful  to  me ; 
and  I  never  liked  the  praise  I  had,  because  it 
seemed  all  very  hard  and  unloving :  I  missed  the 
love  and  the  trust  I  had  been  born  into.  I  made 
a  life  in  my  own  thoughts  quite  different  from 
everything  about  me :  I  chose  what  seemed  to  me 
beautiful  out  of  the  plays  and  everything,  and 
made  my  world  out  of  it ;  and  it  was  like  a  sharp 
knife  always  grazing  me  that  we  had  two  sorts  of 
life  which  jarred  so  with  each  other, —  women 
looking  good  and  gentle  on  the  stage,  and  saying 
good  things  as  if  they  felt  them,  and  directly  after 
I  saw  them  with  coarse,  ugly  manners.  My  father 
sometimes  noticed  my  shrinking  ways  ;  and  Signora 
said  one  day  when  I  had  been  rehearsing,  '  She 
will  never  be  an  artist :  she  has  no  notion  of  being 
anybody  but  herself.  That  does  very  well  now, 
but  by  and  by  you  will  see, —  she  will  have  no 
more  face  and  action  than  a  singing-bird. '  My 
father  was  angry,  and  they  quarrelled.  I  sat  alone 
and  cried,  because  what  she  had  said  was  like  a 


288  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

long  unhappy  future  unrolled  before  me.  I  did 
not  want  to  be  an  artist;  but  this  was  what  my 
father  expected  of  me.  After  a  while  Signora  left 
us,  and  a  governess  used  to  come  and  give  me  les- 
sons in  different  things,  because  my  father  began 
to  be  afraid  of  my  singing  too  much ;  but  I  still 
acted  from  time  to  time.  Eebellious  feelings  grew 
stronger  in  me,  and  I  wished  to  get  away  from  this 
life ;  but  I  could  not  tell  where  to  go,  and  I  dreaded 
the  world.  Besides,  I  felt  it  would  be  wrong  to 
leave  my  father :  I  dreaded  doing  wrong,  for  I 
thought  I  might  get  wicked  and  hateful  to  myself, 
in  the  same  way  that  many  others  seemed  hateful 
to  me.  For  so  long,  so  long  I  had  never  felt  my 
outside  world  happy;  and  if  I  got  wicked  I  should 
lose  my  world  of  happy  thoughts  where  my  mother 
lived  with  me.  That  was  my  childish  notion  all 
through  those  years.     Oh,  how  long  they  were !  " 

Mirah  fell  to  musing  again. 

"  Had  you  no  teaching  about  what  was  your 
duty  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Meyrick.  She  did  not  like  to 
say  "  religion, "  —  finding  herself  on  inspection 
rather  dim  as  to  what  the  Hebrew  religion  might 
have  turned  into  at  this  date. 

"  No  —  only  that  I  ought  to  do  what  my  father 
wished.  He  did  not  follow  our  religion  at  New 
York,  and  I  think  he  wanted  me  not  to  know  much 
about  it.  But  because  my  mother  used  to  take  me 
to  the  synagogue,  and  I  remembered  sitting  on  her 
knee  and  looking  through  the  railing  and  hearing 
the  chanting  and  singing,  I  longed  to  go.  One 
day  when  I  was  quite  small  I  slipped  out  and  tried 
to  find  the  synagogue,  but  I  lost  myself  a  long 
while  till  a  pedler  questioned  me  and  took  me 
home.     My  father,  missing  me,  had  been  in  much 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  289 

fear,  and  was  very  angry.  I  too  had  been  so 
frightened  at  losing  myself  that  it  was  long  before 
I  thought  of  venturing  out  again.  But  after  Sig- 
nora  left  us  we  went  to  rooms  where  our  landlady 
was  a  Jewess  and  observed  her  religion.  I  asked 
her  to  take  me  with  her  to  the  synagogue ;  and  I 
read  in  her  prayer-books  and  Bible,  and  when  I  had 
money  enough  I  asked  her  to  buy  me  books  of  my 
own,  for  these  books  seemed  a  closer  companion- 
ship with  my  mother :  I  knew  that  she  must  have 
looked  at  the  very  words  and  said  them.  In  that 
way  I  have  come  to  know  a  little  of  our  religion, 
and  the  history  of  our  people,  besides  piecing  to- 
gether what  I  read  in  plays  and  other  books  about 
Jews  and  Jewesses ;  because  I  was  sure  that  my 
mother  obeyed  her  religion.  I  had  left  off'  asking 
my  father  about  her.  It  is  very  dreadful  to  say  it, 
but  I  began  to  disbelieve  him.  I  had  found  that 
he  did  not  always  tell  the  truth,  and  made  prom- 
ises without  meaning  to  keep  them;  and  that 
raised  my  suspicion  that  my  mother  and  brother 
were  still  alive,  though  he  had  told  me  that  they 
were  dead.  For  in  going  over  the  past  again  and 
again,  as  I  got  older  and  knew  more,  I  felt  sure 
that  my  mother  had  been  deceived,  and  had  ex- 
pected to  see  us  back  again  after  a  very  little 
while ;  and  my  father  taking  me  on  his  knee  and 
telling  me  that  my  mother  and  brother  were  both 
dead  seemed  to  me  now  nothing  but  a  bit  of  act- 
ing, to  set  my  mind  at  rest.  The  cruelty  of  that 
falsehood  sank  into  me,  and  I  hated  all  untruth 
because  of  it.  I  wrote  to  my  mother  secretly :  I 
knew  the  street,  Colman  Street,  where  we  lived, 
and  that  it  was  near  Blackfriars  Bridge  and  the 
Coburg,  and  that  our  name  was  Cohen  then,  though 

VOL.  I.  — 19 


290  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

my  father  called  us  Lapidoth,  because  he  said  it 
was  a  name  of  his  forefathers  in  Poland.  I  sent 
my  letter  secretly ;  but  no  answer  came,  and  I 
thought  there  was  no  hope  for  me.  Our  life  in 
America  did  not  last  much  longer.  My  father 
suddenly  told  me  we  were  to  pack  up  and  go  to 
Hamburg,  and  I  was  rather  glad.  I  hoped  we 
might  get  among  a  different  sort  of  people,  and  I 
knew  German  quite  well,  —  some  German  plays 
almost  all  by  heart.  My  father  spoke  it  better  than 
he  spoke  English.  I  was  thirteen  then,  and  I 
seemed  to  myself  quite  old,  —  I  knew  so  much,  and 
yet  so  little.  I  think  other  children  cannot  feel 
as  I  did.  I  had  often  wished  that  I  had  been 
drowned  when  I  was  going  away  from  my  mother. 
But  I  set  myself  to  obey  and  suffer:  what  else 
could  I  do?  One  day  when  we  were  on  our  voy- 
age, a  new  thought  came  into  my  mind.  I  was  not 
very  ill  that  time,  and  I  kept  on  deck  a  good  deal. 
My  father  acted  and  sang  and  joked  to  amuse 
people  on  board,  and  I  used  often  to  overhear  re- 
marks about  him.  One  day,  when  I  was  looking 
at  the  sea  and  nobody  took  notice  of  me,  I  over- 
heard a  gentleman  say,  '  Oh,  he  is  one  of  those 
clever  Jews,  —  a  rascal,  I  should  n't  wonder. 
There  's  no  race  like  them  for  cunning  in  the  men 
and  beauty  in  the  women.  I  wonder  what  market 
he  means  that  daughter  for. '  When  I  heard  this 
it  darted  into  my  mind  that  the  unhappiness  in 
my  life  came  from  my  being  a  Jewess,  and  that 
always  to  the  end  the  world  would  think  sliglitly 
of  me  and  that  I  must  bear  it,  for  I  should  be 
judged  by  that  name ;  and  it  comforted  me  to  be- 
lieve that  my  suffering  was  part  of  the  affliction 
of  my  people,  my  part  in  the  long  song  of  mourn- 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  291 

ing  that  has  been  going  on  through  ages  and  ages. 
For  if  many  of  our  race  were  wicked  and  made 
merry  in  their  wickedness,  —  what  was  that  but 
part  of  the  affliction  borne  by  the  just  among  them, 
who  were  despised  for  the  sins  of  their  brethren  ?  — 
But  you  have  not  rejected  me.  " 

Mirah  had  changed  her  tone  in  this  last  sentence, 
having  suddenly  reflected  that  at  this  moment  she 
had  reason  not  for  complaint  but  for  gratitude. . 

"  And  we  will  try  to  save  you  from  being  judged 
unjustly  by  others,  my  poor  child,"  said  Mrs. 
Meyrick,  who  had  now  given  up  all  attempt  at 
going  on  with  her  work,  and  sat  listening  with 
folded  hands  and  a  face  hardly  less  eager  than 
Mab's  would  have  been.  "  Go  on,  go  on:  tell  me 
all." 

"  After  that  we  lived  in  different  towns,  — Ham- 
burg and  Vienna  the  longest.  I  began  to  study 
singing  again,  and  my  father  always  got  money 
about  the  theatres.  I  think  he  brought  a  good 
deal  of  money  from  America :  I  never  knew  why 
we  left.  For  some  time  he  was  in  great  spirits 
about  my  singing,  and  he  made  me  rehearse  parts 
and  act  continually.  He  looked  forward  to  my 
coming  out  in  the  opera.  But  by  and  by  it  seemed 
that  my  voice  would  never  be  strong  enough,  —  it 
did  not  fulfil  its  promise.  My  master  at  Vienna 
said,  '  Don't  strain  it  further:  it  will  never  do  for 
the  public :  it  is  gold,  but  a  thread  of  gold  dust. ' 
My  father  was  bitterly  disappointed :  we  were  not 
so  well  off  at  that  time.  I  think  I  have  not  quite 
told  you  what  I  felt  about  my  father.  I  knew  he 
was  fond  of  me  and  meant  to  indulge  me,  and  that 
made  me  afraid  of  hurting  him ;  but  he  always 
mistook  what  would  please  me  and  give  me  happi- 


29*  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

ness.  It  was  his  nature  to  take  everything  lightly ; 
and  I  soon  left  off  asking  him  any  question  about 
things  that  I  cared  for  much,  because  he  always 
turned  them  off  with  a  joke.  He  would  even  ridi- 
cule our  own  people ;  and  once  when  he  had  been 
imitating  their  movements  and  their  tones  in  pray- 
ing, only  to  make  others  laugh,  I  could  not  restrain 
myself,  —  for  I  always  had  an  anger  in  my  heart 
about  my  mother,  —  and  when  we  were  alone,  I 
said,  '  Father,  you  ought  not  to  mimic  our  own 
people  before  Christians  who  mock  them :  would 
it  not  be  bad  if  I  mimicked  you,  that  they  might 
mock  you  ?  *  But  he  only  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  laughed  and  pinched  my  chin,  and  said,  *  You 
couldn't  do  it,  my  dear'  It  was  this  way  of 
turning  off  everything,  that  made  a  great  wall  be- 
tween me  and  my  father,  and  whatever  I  felt  most 
I  took  the  most  care  to  hide  from  him.  For  there 
were  some  things  —  when  they  were  laughed  at  I 
could  not  bear  it :  the  world  seemed  like  a  hell  to 
me.  Is  this  world  and  all  the  life  upon  it  only 
like  a  farce  or  a  vaudeville,  where  you  find  no 
great  meanings  ?  Why,  then,  are  there  tragedies 
and  grand  operas,  where  men  do  difficult  things  and 
choose  to  suffer  ?  I  think  it  is  silly  to  speak  of 
all  things  as  a  joke.  And  I  saw  that  his  wishing 
me  to  sing  the  greatest  music,  and  parts  in  grand 
operas,  was  only  wishing  for  what  would  fetch  the 
greatest  price.  That  hemmed  in  my  gratitude  for 
his  affectionateness,  and  the  tenderest  feeling  I  had 
towards  him  was  pity.  Yes,  I  did  sometimes  pity 
him-  He  had  aged  and  changed.  Now  he  was  no 
longer  so  lively.  I  thought  he  seemed  worse,  — 
less  good  to  others  and  to  me.  Every  now  and 
then   in  the  latter  years   his   gayety  went   away 


'MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  ±93 

suddenly,  and  he  would  sit  at  home  silent  and 
gloomy;  or  he  would  come  in  and  fling  himself 
down  and  sob,  just  as  I  have  done  myself  when  I 
have  been  in  trouble.  If  I  put  my  hand  on  his 
knee  and  said,  *  What  is  the  matter,  father  ? '  he 
would  make  no  answer,  but  would  draw  my  arm 
round  his  neck  and  put  his  arm  round  me  and  go 
on  crying.  There  never  came  any  confidence  be- 
tween us ;  but  oh,  I  was  sorry  for  him.  At 
those  moments  I  knew  he  must  feel  his  life  bitter, 
and  I  pressed  my  cheek  against  his  head  and 
prayed.  Those  moments  were  what  most  bound 
me  to  him ;  and  I  used  to  think  how  much  my 
mother  once  loved  him,  else  she  would  not  have 
married  him. 

"  But  soon  there  came  the  dreadful  time.  We 
had  been  at  Pesth,  and  we  came  back  to  Vienna, 
In  spite  of  what  my  master  Leo  had  said,  my 
father  got  me  an  engagement,  not  at  the  opera,  but 
to  take  singing  parts  at  a  suburb  theatre  in  Vienna. 
He  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  theatre  then ;  I  did 
not  understand  what  he  did,  but  I  think  he  was 
continually  at  a  gambling-house,  though  he  was 
careful  always  about  taking  me  to  the  theatre.  I 
was  very  miserable.  The  plays  I  acted  in  were 
detestable  to  me.  Men  came  about  us  and  wanted 
to  talk  to  me.  Women  and  men  seemed  to  look  at 
me  with  a  sneering  smile  :  it  was  no  better  than  a 
fiery  furnace.  Perhaps  I  make  it  worse  than  it 
was  —  you  don't  know  that  life  ;  but  the  glare  and 
the  faces,  and  my  having  to  go  on  and  act  and  sing 
what  I  hated,  and  then  see  people  who  came  to 
stare  at  me  behind  the  scenes  —  it  was  all  so  much 
worse  than  when  I  was  a  little  girl.  I  went 
through  with  it;  I  did  it;  T  had  set  my  mind  to 


294  DANIEL  DERONDA, 

obey  my  father  and  work,  for  I  saw  nothing  better 
that  I  could  do.  But  I  felt  that  my  voice  was 
getting  weaker,  and  I  knew  that  my  acting  was 
not  good  except  when  it  was  not  really  acting,  but 
the  part  was  one  that  I  could  be  myself  in,  and 
some  feeling  within  me  carried  me  along.  That 
was  seldom. 

"  Then  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  the  news  came 
to  me  one  morning  that  my  father  had  been  taken 
to  prison,  and  he  had  sent  for  me.  He  did  not 
tell  me  the  reason  why  he  was  there,  but  he 
ordered  me  to  go  to  an  address  he  gave  me,  to  see 
a  Count  who  would  be  able  to  get  him  released. 
The  address  was  to  some  public  rooms  where  I  was 
to  ask  for  the  Count,  and  beg  him  to  come  to  my 
father.  I  found  him,  and  recognized  him  as  a 
gentleman  whom  I  had  seen  the  other  night  for 
the  first  time  behind  the  scenes.  That  agitated 
me,  for  I  remembered  his  way  of  looking  at  me 
and  kissing  my  hand, —  I  thought  it  was  in  mock- 
ery. But  I  delivered  my  errand  and  he  promised 
to  go  immediately  to  my  father,  who  came  home 
again  that  very  evening,  bringing  the  Count  with 
him.  I  now  began  to  feel  a  horrible  dread  of  this 
man,  for  he  worried  me  with  his  attentions,  his 
eyes  were  always  on  me  :  I  felt  sure  that  whatever 
else  there  might  be  in  his  mind  towards  me,  below 
it  all  there  was  scorn  for  the  Jewess  and  the 
actress.  And  when  he  came  to  me  the  next  day 
in  the  theatre  and  would  put  my  shawl  round  me, 
a  terror  took  hold  of  me ;  I  saw  that  my  father 
wanted  me  to  look  pleased.  The  Count  was  neither 
very  young  nor  very  old :  his  hair  and  eyes  were 
pale ;  he  was  tall  and  walked  heavily,  and  his  face 
was  heavy  and  grave  except  when  he  looked  at  me. 


MA.IDENS  CHOOSING.  295 

He  smiled  at  me,  and  his  smile  went  through  me 
with  horror :  I  could  not  tell  why  he  was  so  much 
worse  to  me  than  other  men.  Some  feelings  are 
like  our  hearing :  they  come  as  sounds  do,  before 
we  know  their  reason.  My  father  talked  to  me 
about  him  when  we  were  alone,  and  praised  him, 
—  said  what  a  good  friend  he  had  been.  I  said 
nothing,  because  I  supposed  he  had  got  my  father 
out  of  prison.  When  the  Count  came  again,  my 
father  left  the  room.  He  asked  me  if  I  liked  be- 
ing on  the  stage.  I  said  No,  I  only  acted  in 
obedience  to  my  father.  He  always  spoke  French, 
and  called  me  '  petit  ange  '  and  such  things,  which 
I  felt  insulting.  I  knew  he  meant  to  make  love 
to  me,  and  I  had  it  firmly  in  my  mind  that  a 
nobleman  and  one  who  was  not  a  Jew  could  have 
no  love  for  me  that  was  not  half  contempt.  But 
then  he  told  me  that  I  need  not  act  any  longer; 
he  wished  me  to  visit  him  at  his  beautiful  place, 
where  I  might  be  queen  of  everything.  It  was 
difficult  to  me  to  speak,  I  felt  so  shaken  with 
anger :  I  could  only  say,  '  I  would  rather  stay  on 
the  stage  forever, '  and  I  left  him  there.  Hurrying 
out  of  the  room,  I  saw  my  father  sauntering  in  the 
passage.  My  heart  was  crushed.  I  went  past 
him  and  locked  myself  up.  It  had  sunk  into  me 
that  my  father  was  in  a  conspiracy  with  that  man 
against  me.  But  the  next  day  he  persuaded  me  to 
come  out :  he  said  that  I  had  mistaken  everything, 
and  he  would  explain :  if  I  did  not  come  out  and 
act  and  fulfil  my  engagement,  we  should  be  ruined 
and  he  must  starve.  So  I  went  on  acting,  and  for 
a  week  or  more  the  Count  never  came  near  me. 
My  father  changed  our  lodgings,  and  kept  at  home 
except  when  he  went  to  the  theatre  with  me.     He 


296  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

began  one  day  to  speak  discouragingly  of  my  act- 
ing, and  say,  I  could  never  go  on  singing  in  public 
—  I  should  lose  my  voice  —  I  ought  to  think  of 
my  future,  and  not  put  my  nonsensical  feelings 
between  me  and  my  fortune.  He  said,  '  What 
will  you  do  ?  You  will  be  brought  down  .to  sing 
and  beg  at  people's  doors.  You  have  had  a  splen- 
did offer  and  ought  to  accept  it, '  I  could  not 
speak :  a  horror  took  possession  of  me  when  I 
thought  of  my  mother  and  of  him.  I  felt  for  the 
first  time  that  I  should  not  do  wrong  to  leave  him. 
But  the  next  day  he  told  me  that  he  had  put  an 
end  to  my  engagement  at  the  theatre,  and  that  we 
were  to  go  to  Prague.  I  was  getting  suspicious  of 
everything,  and  my  will  was  hardening  to  act 
against  him.  It  took  us  two  days  to  pack  and  get 
ready ;  and  I  had  it  in  ray  mind  that  I  might  be 
obliged  to  run  away  from  my  father,  and  then  I 
would  come  to  London  and  try  if  it  were  possible 
to  find  my  mother.  I  had  a  little  money,  and  I 
sold  some  things  to  get  more.  I  packed  a  few 
clothes  in  a  little  bag  that  I  could  carry  with  me, 
and  I  kept  my  mind  on  the  watch.  My  father's 
silence — his  letting  drop  that  subject  of  the 
Count's  offer  —  made  me  feel  sure  that  there  was  a 
plan  against  me.  I  felt  as  if  it  had  been  a  plan  to 
take  me  to  a  madhouse.  I  once  saw  a  picture  of 
a  madhouse,  that  I  could  never  forget;  it  seemed 
to  me  very  much  like  some  of  the  life  I  had 
seen, —  the  people  strutting,  quarrelling,  leering, — 
the  faces  with  cunning  and  malice  in  them.  It 
was  my  will  to  keep  myself  from  wickedness ;  and 
I  prayed  for  help.  I  had  seen  what  despised 
women  were :  and  my  heart  turned  against  my 
father,  for  I  saw  always  behind  him  that  man  who 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  ^97 

made  me  shudder.  You  will  think  I  had  not 
enough  reason  for  my  suspicions,  and  perhaps  I 
had  not,  outside  my  own  feeling ;  but  it  seemed  to 
me  that  my  mind  had  been  lit  up,  and  all  that 
might  be  stood  out  clear  and  sharp.  If  I  slept,  it 
was  only  to  see  the  same  sort  of  things,  and  I 
could  hardly  sleep  at  all.  Through  our  journey  I 
was  everywhere  on  the  watch.  I  don't  know  why, 
but  it  came  before  me  like  a  real  event,  that  my 
father  would  suddenly  leave  me  and  I  should  find 
myself  with  the  Count  where  I  could  not  get  away 
from  him.  I  thought  God  was  warning  me :  my 
mother's  voice  was  in  my  soul.  It  was  dark  when 
we  reached  Prague,  and  though  the  strange  bunches 
of  lamps  were  lit  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish 
faces  as  we  drove  along  the  street.  My  father 
chose  to  sit  outside  —  he  was  always  smoking  now 
—  and  I  watched  everything  in  spite  of  the  dark- 
ness. I  do  believe  I  could  see  better  then  than  ever 
I  did  before :  the  strange  clearness  within  seemed 
to  have  got  outside  me.  It  was  not  my  habit  to 
notice  faces  and  figures  much  in  the  street;  but 
this  night  I  saw  every  one ;  and  when  we  passed 
before  a  great  hotel,  I  caught  sight  only  of  a  back 
that  was  passing  in  —  the  light  of  the  great  bunch 
of  lamps  a  good  way  off  fell  on  it.  I  knew  it  — 
before  the  face  was  turned,  as  it  fell  into  shadow, 
I  knew  who  it  was.  Help  came  to  me.  I  feel 
sure  help  came  to  me.  I  did  not  sleep  that  night. 
I  put  on  my  plainest  things,  —  the  cloak  and  hat  I 
have  worn  ever  since ;  and  I  sat  watching  for  the 
light  and  the  sound  of  the  doors  being  unbarred. 
Some  one  rose  early  —  at  four  o'clock  to  go  to  the 
railway.  That  gave  me  courage.  I  slipped  out 
with   my   little   bag   under   my  cloak,    and  none 


298  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

noticed  me.  I  had  been  a  long  while  attending  to 
the  railway  guide  that  I  might  learn  the  way  to 
England ;  and  before  the  sun  had  risen  I  was  in 
the  train  for  Dresden.  Then  I  cried  for  joy.  I 
did  not  know  whether  my  money  would  last  out, 
but  I  trusted.  I  could  sell  the  things  in  my  bag, 
and  the  little  rings  in  my  ears,  and  I  could  live 
on  bread  only.  My  only  terror  was  lest  my  father 
should  follow  me.  But  I  never  paused.  I  came 
on,  and  on,  and  on,  only  eating  bread  now  and 
then.  When  I  got  to  Brussels  I  saw  that  I  should 
not  have  enough  money,  and  I  sold  all  that  I  could 
sell ;  but  here  a  strange  thing  happened.  Putting 
my  hand  into  the  pocket  of  my  cloak,  I  found  a  half- 
napoleon.  Wondering  and  wondering  how  it  came 
there,  I  remembered  that  on  the  way  from  Cologne 
there  was  a  young  workman  sitting  against  me.  I 
was  frightened  at  every  one,  and  did  not  like  to  be 
spoken  to.  At  first  he  tried  to  talk,  but  when  he 
saw  that  I  did  not  like  it,  he  left  off.  It  was  a  long 
journey ;  I  ate  nothing  but  a  bit  of  bread,  and  he 
once  offered  me  some  of  the  food  he  brought  in, 
but  I  refused  it.  I  do  believe  it  was  he  who  put 
that  bit  of  gold  in  my  pocket.  Without  it  I  could 
hardly  have  got  to  Dover,  and  I  did  walk  a  good 
deal  of  the  way  from  Dover  to  London.  I  knew  I 
should  look  like  a  miserable  beggar -girl.  I  wanted 
not  to  look  very  miserable,  because  if  I  found  my 
mother  it  would  grieve  her  to  see  me  so.  But  oh, 
how  vain  my  hope  was  that  she  would  be  there  to 
see  me  come !  As  soon  as  I  set  foot  in  London,  I 
began  to  ask  for  Lambeth  and  Blackfriars  Bridge, 
but  they  were  a  long  way  off,  and  I  went  wrong. 
At  last  I  got  to  Blackfriars  Bridge  and  asked  for 
Colmau  Street     People  shook  their  heads.     None 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  299 

knew  it.  I  saw  it  in  my  mind, —  our  doorsteps, 
and  the  white  tiles  hung  in  the  windows,  and  the 
large  brick  building  opposite  with  wide  doors. 
But  there  was  nothing  like  it.  At  last  when  I 
asked  a  tradesman  where  the  Coburg  Theatre  and 
Colman  Street  were,  he  said,  '  Oh,  my  little 
woman,  that 's  all  done  away  with.  The  old 
streets  have  been  pulled  down ;  everything  is  new. ' 
I  turned  away,  and  felt  as  if  death  had  laid  a  hand 
on  me.  He  said :  '  Stop,  stop !  young  woman ; 
what  is  it  you  're  wanting  with  Colman  Street, 
eh  ? '  meaning  well,  perhaps.  But  his  tone  was 
what  I  could  not  bear ;  and  how  could  I  tell  him 
what  I  wanted  ?  I  felt  blinded  and  bewildered  with 
a  sudden  shock.  I  suddenly  felt  that  I  was  very 
weak  and  weary,  and  yet  where  could  I  go  ?  for  I 
looked  so  poor  and  dusty,  and  had  nothing  with 
me  —  I  looked  like  a  street-beggar.  And  I  was 
afraid  of  all  places  where  I  could  enter.  I  lost  my 
trust.  I  thought  I  was  forsaken.  It  seemed  that 
I  had  been  in  a  fever  of  hope  —  delirious  —  all  the 
way  from  Prague ;  I  thought  that  I  was  helped, 
and  I  did  nothing  but  strain  my  mind  forward  and 
think  of  finding  my  mother ;  and  now  —^  there  I 
stood  in  a  strange  world.  All  who  saw  me  would 
think  ill  of  me,  and  I  must  herd  with  beggars.  I 
stood  on  the  bridge  and  looked  along  the  river. 
People  were  going  on  to  a  steamboat.  Many  of 
them  seemed  poor,  and  I  felt  as  if  it  would  be  a 
refuge  to  get  away  from  the  streets :  perhaps  the 
boat  would  take  me  where  I  could  soon  get  into 
a  solitude.  I  had  still  some  pence  left,  and  I 
bought  a  loaf  when  I  went  on  the  boat.  I  wanted 
to  have  a  little  time  and  strength  to  think  of  life 
and  death.     How  could  I  live  ?    And  now  agaiu 


300  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

it  seemed  that  if  ever  I  were  to  find  my  mother 
again,  death  was  the  way  to  her.  I  ate,  that  I 
might  have  strength  to  think.  The  boat  set  me 
down  at  a  place  along  the  river  —  I  don't  know 
where  —  and  it  was  late  in  the  evening.  I  found 
some  large  trees  apart  from  the  road,  and  I  sat 
down  under  them  that  I  might  rest  through  the 
night.  Sleep  must  have  soon  come  to  me,  and 
when  I  awoke  it  was  morning.  The  birds  were 
singing,  the  dew  was  white  about  me,  I  felt  chill 
and  oh  so  lonely !  I  got  up  and  walked,  and  fol- 
lowed the  river  a  long  way,  and  then  turned  back 
again.  There  was  no  reason  why  I  should  go  any- 
where. The  world  about  me  seemed  like  a  vision 
that  was  hurrying  by  while '  I  stood  still  with  my 
pain.  My  thoughts  were  stronger  than  I  was : 
they  rushed  in  and  forced  me  to  see  all  my  life 
from  the  beginning ;  ever  since  I  was  carried  away 
from  my  mother  I  had  felt  myself  a  lost  child 
taken  up  and  used  by  strangers,  who  did  not  care 
what  my  life  was  to  me,  but  only  what  I  could  do 
for  them.  It  seemed  all  a  weary  wandering  and 
heart-loneliness,  —  as  if  T  had  been  forced  to  go 
to  merry-makings  without  the  expectation  of  joy. 
And  now  it  was  worse.  I  was  lost  again,  and  I 
dreaded  lest  any  stranger  should  notice  me  and 
speak  to  me.  I  had  a  terror  of  the  world.  None 
knew  me ;  all  would  mistake  me.  I  had  seen  so 
many  in  my  life  who  made  themselves  glad  with 
scorning,  and  laughed  at  another's  shame.  What 
could  I  do?  This  life  seemed  to  be  closing  in 
upon  me  with  a  wall  of  fire, —  everywhere  there 
was  scorching  that  made  me  shrink.  The  high 
sunlight  made  me  shrink.  And  I  began  to  think 
that  my  despair  was  the  voice  of  God  telling  me 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  301 

to  die.  But  it  would  take  me  long  to  die  of  hun- 
ger. Then  I  thought  of  my  People,  how  they  had 
been  driven  from  land  to  land  and  been  afflicted, 
and  multitudes  had  died  of  misery  in  their  wan- 
dering —  was  I  the  first  ?  And  in  the  wars  and 
troubles  when  Christians  were  cruelest,  our  fathers 
had  sometimes  slain  their  children  and  afterwards 
themselves ;  it  was  to  save  them  from  being  false 
apostates.  That  seemed  to  make  it  right  for  me  to 
put  an  end  to  my  life ;  for  calamity  had  closed  me 
in  too,  and  I  saw  no  pathway  but  to  evil.  But  my 
mind  got  into  war  with  itself,  for  there  were  con- 
trary things  in  it.  I  knew  that  some  had  held  it 
wrong  to  hasten  their  own  death,  though  they 
were  in  the  midst  of  flames ;  and  while  I  had  some 
strength  left  it  was  a  longing  to  bear  if  I  ought  to 
bear, —  else  where  was  the  good  of  all  my  life  ?  It 
had  not  been  happy  since  the  first  years :  when  the 
light  came  every  morning,  I  used  to  think,  '  I  will 
bear  it. '  But  always  before  I  had  some  hope ; 
now  it  was  gone.  With  these  thoughts  I  wan- 
dered and  wandered,  inwardly  crying  to  the  Most 
High,  from  whom  I  should  not  flee  in  death  more 
than  in  life,  —  though  I  had  no  strong  faith  that 
He  cared  for  me.  The  strength  seemed  departing 
from  my  soul :  deep  below  all  my  cries  was  the  feel- 
ing that  I  was  alone  and  forsaken.  The  more  I 
thought  the  wearier  I  got,  till  it  seemed  I  was  not 
thinking  at  all,  but  only  the  sky  and  the  river  and 
the  Eternal  God  were  in  my  soul.  And  what  was 
it  whether  I  died  or  lived  ?  If  I  lay  down  to  die  in 
the  river,  was  it  more  than  lying  down  to  sleep  ?  — 
for  there  too  I  committed  my  soul  —  I  gave  myself 
up.  I  could  not  hear  memories  any  more  :  I  could 
only  feel  what  was  present  in  me, —  it  was  all  one 


302  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

longing  to  cease  from  my  weary  life,  which  seemed 
only  a  pain  outside  the  great  peace  that  I  might 
enter  into.  That  was  how  it  was.  When  the 
evening  came  and  the  sun  was  gone,  it  seemed  as 
if  that  was  all  I  had  to  wait  for.  And  a  new 
strength  came  into  me  to  will  what  I  would  do. 
You  know  what  I  did.  I  was  going  to  die.  You 
know  what  happened  —  did  he  not  tell  you  ? 
Faith  came  to  me  again  :  I  was  not  forsaken.  He 
told  you  how  he  found  me  ?  " 

Mrs.  Meyrick  gave  no  audible  answer,  but  pressed 
her  lips  against  Mirah's  forehead. 

"  She  's  just  a  pearl :  the  mud  has  only  washed 
her,"  was  the  fervid  little  woman's  closing  com- 
mentary when,  tete-a-tete  with  Deronda  in  the  back 
parlour  that  evening,  she  had  conveyed  Mirah's 
story  to  him  with  much  vividness. 

"  What  is  your  feeling  about  a  search  for  this 
mother  ?  "  said  Deronda.  "  Have  you  no  fears  ?  I 
have,   I  confess. " 

"Oh,  I  believe  the  mother's  good,"  said  Mrs. 
Meyrick,  with  rapid  decisiveness ;  "  or  was  good. 
She  may  be  dead,  —  that 's  my  fear.  A  good 
woman,  you  may  depend :  you  may  know  it  by  the 
scoundrel  the  father  is.  Where  did  the  child  get 
her  goodness  from  ?  Wheaten  flour  has  to  be 
accounted  for. " 

Deronda  was  rather  disappointed  at  this  answer : 
he  had  wanted  a  confirmation  of  his  own  judgment, 
and  he  began  to  put  in  demurrers.  The  argument 
about  the  mother  would  not  apply  to  the  brother ; 
and  Mrs.  Meyrick  admitted  that  the  brother  might 
be  an  ugly  likeness  of  the  father.  Then,  as  to 
advertising,  if  the  name  was  Cohen,  you  might  as 
well  advertise  for  two  unduscribed  terriers;  and 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  303 

here  Mrs.  Meyrick  helped  him,  for  the  idea  of  an 
advertisement,  already  mentioned  to  Mirah,  had 
roused  the  poor  child's  terror:  she  was  convinced 
that  her  father  would  see  it,  —  he  saw  everything 
in  the  papers.  Certainly  there  were  safer  means 
than  advertising :  men  might  be  set  to  work  whose 
business  it  was  to  find  missing  persons ;  but  De- 
ronda  wished  Mrs.  Meyrick  to  feel  with  him  that 
it  would  be  wiser  to  wait,  before  seeking  a  dubious 

—  perhaps  a  deplorable  result;  especially  as  he 
was  eugaged  to  go  abroad  the  next  week  for  a 
couple  of  months.  If  a  search  were  made,  he 
would  like  to  be  at  hand,  so  that  Mrs.  Meyrick 
might  not  be  unaided  in  meeting  any  consequences, 

—  supposing  that  she  would  generously  continue 
to  watch  over  Mirah. 

"  We  should  be  very  jealous  of  any  one  who  took 
the  task  from  us, "  said  Mrs.  Meyrick.  "  She  will 
stay  under  my  roof:  there  is  Hans's  old  room  for 
her." 

"  Will  she  be  content  to  wait  ?  "  said  Deronda, 
anxiously. 

"  No  trouble  there.  It  is  not  her  nature  to  run 
into  planning  and  devising :  only  to  submit.  See 
how  she  submitted  to  that  father!  It  was  a  won- 
der to  herself  how  she  found  the  will  and  contriv- 
ance to  run  away  from  him.  About  finding  her 
mother,  her  only  notion  now  is  to  trust :  since  you 
were  sent  to  save  her  and  we  are  good  to  her,  she 
trusts  that  her  mother  will  be  found  in  the  same 
unsought  way.  And  when  she  is  talking  I  catch 
her  feeling  like  a  child. " 

Mrs.  Meyrick  hoped  that  the  sum  Deronda  put 
into  her  hands  as  a  provision  for  Mirah 's  wants 
was  more   than  would  be  needed :    after  a  little 


304  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

while  Mirab  would  perhaps  like  to  occupy  herself 
as  the  other  girls  did,  and  make  herself  independ- 
ent. Deronda  pleaded  that  she  must  need  a  long 
rest. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  we  will  hurry  nothing, "  said  Mrs. 
Meyrick.  "  Rely  upon  it,  she  shall  be  taken  tender 
care  of.  If  you  like  to  give  me  your  address 
abroad,  T  will  write  to  let  you  know  how  we  get 
on.  It  is  not  fair  that  we  should  have  all  the 
pleasure  of  her  salvation  to  ourselves.  And  be- 
sides, I  want  to  make  believe  that  I  am  doing 
something  for  you  as  well  as  for  Mirah. " 

"  That  is  no  make-believe.  What  should  I  have 
done  without  you  last  night?  Everything  would 
have  gone  wrong.  I  shall  tell  Hans  that  the  best 
of  having  him  for  a  friend  is,  knowing  his  mother.  " 

After  that  they  joined  the  girls  in  the  other 
room,  where  Mirah  was  seated  placidly,  while 
the  others  were  telling  her  what  they  knew  about 
Mr.  Deronda, —  his  goodness  to  Hans,  and  all  the 
virtues  that  Hans  had  reported  of  him. 

"  Kate  burns  a  pastille  before  his  portrait  every 
day, "  said  Mab.  "  And  I  carry  his  signature  in  a 
little  black-silk  bag  round  my  neck  to  keep  off  the 
cramp.  And  Amy  says  the  multiplication-table 
in  his  name.  "We  must  all  do  something  extra  in 
honour  of  him,  now  he  has  brought  you  to  us.  " 

"  I  suppose  he  is  too  great  a  person  to  want  any- 
thing, "  said  Mirah,  smiling  at  Mab  and  appealing 
to  the  graver  Amy.  "  He  is  perhaps  very  high  in 
the  world  ?  " 

"  He  is  very  much  above  us  in  rank, "  said  Amy. 
*  He  is  related  to  grand  people.  I  dare  say  he 
leans  on  some  of  the  satin  cushions  we  prick  our 
fingers  over. " 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  305 

"  I  am  glad  he  is  of  high  rank, "  said  Mirah, 
with  her  usual  quietness. 

"  Now,  why  are  you  glad  of  that  ?  "  said  Amy, 
rather  suspicious  of  this  sentiment,  and  on  the 
watch  for  Jewish  peculiarities  which  had  not 
appeared. 

"  Because  I  have  always  disliked  men  of  high 
rank  before. " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Deronda  is  not  so  very  high, "  said 
Kate.  "  He  need  not  hinder  us  from  thinking  ill 
of  the  whole  peerage  and  baronetage  if  we  like. " 

When  he  entered,  Mirah  rose  with  the  same 
look  of  grateful  reverence  that  she  had  lifted  to 
him  the  evening  before :  impossible  to  see  a  crea- 
ture freer  at  once  from  embarrassment  and  boldness. 
Her  theatrical  training  had .  left  no  recognizable 
trace ;  probably  her  manners  had  not  much  changed 
since  she  played  the  forsaken  child  at  nine  years  of 
age ;  and  she  had  grown  up  in  her  simplicity  and 
truthfulness  like'  a  little  flower-seed  that  absorbs 
the  chance  confusion  of  its  surroundings  into  its 
own  definite  mould  of  beauty.  Deronda  felt  that 
he  was  making  acquaintance  with  something  quite 
new  to  him  in  the  form  of  womanhood.  For 
Mirah  was  not  childlike  from  ignorance :  her  ex- 
perience of  evil  and  trouble  was  deeper  and  stranger 
than  his  own.  He  felt  inclined  to  watch  her  and 
listen  to  her  as  if  she  had  come  from  a  far-ofif  shore 
inhabited  by  a  race  different  from  our  own. 

But  for  that  very  reason  he  made  his  visit  brief : 
with  his  usual  activity  of  imagination  as  to  how 
his  conduct  might  affect  others,  he  shrank  from 
what  might  seem  like  curiosity,  or  the  assumption 
of  a  right  to  know  as  much  as  he  pleased  of  one  to 

whom  he  had  done  a  service.     For  example   he 
VOL.  I.  —  20 


3o6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

would  have  liked  to  hear  her  sing,  but  he  would 
have  felt  the  expression  of  such  a  wish  to  be  a 
rudeness  in  him, —  since  she  could  not  refuse,  and 
he  would  all  the  while  have  a  sense  that  she  was 
being  treated  like  one  whose  accomplishments  were 
to  be  ready  on  demand.  And  whatever  reverence 
could  be  shown  to  woman,  he  was  bent  on  showing 
to  this  girl.  "Why  ?  He  gave  himself  several  good 
reasons ;  but  whatever  one  does  with  a  strong  un- 
hesitating outflow  of  will,  has  a  store  of  motive 
that  it  would  be  hard  to  put  into  words.  Some 
deeds  seem  little  more  than  interjections  which 
give  vent  to  the  long  passion  of  a  life. 

So  Deronda  soon  took  his  farewell  for  the  two 
months  during  which  he  expected  to  be  absent 
from  London,  and  in  a  few  days  he  was  on  his  way 
with  Sir  Hugo  and  Lady  Mallinger  to  Leubronu. 

He  had  fulfilled  his  intention  of  telling  them 
about  Mirah.  The  baronet  was  decidedly  of  opinion 
that  the  search  for  the  mother  and  brother  had  better 
be  let  alone.  Lady  Mallinger  was  much  interested 
in  the  poor  girl,  observing  that  there  was  a  Society 
for  the  Conversion  of  the  Jews,  and  that  it  was  to 
be  hoped  Mirah  would  embrace  Christianity ;  but 
perceiving  that  Sir  Hugo  looked  at  her  with  amuse- 
ment, she  concluded  that  she  had  said  something 
foolish.  Lady  Mallinger  felt  apologetically  about 
herself  as  a  woman  who  had  produced  nothing  but 
daughters  in  a  case  where  sons  were  required,  and 
hence  regarded  the  apparent  contradictions  of  the 
world  as  probably  due  to  the  weakness  of  her  own 
understanding.  But  when  she  was  much  puzzled, 
it  was  her  habit  to  say  to  herself,  "  I  will  ask 
Daniel. "  Deronda  was  altogether  a  convenience 
in  the  family ;  and  Sir  Hugo  too,  after  intending 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  307 

to  do  the  best  for  him,  had  begun  to  feel  that  the 
pleasantest  result  would  be  to  have  this  substitute 
for  a  son  always  ready  at  his  elbow. 

This  was  the  history  of  Deronda,  so  far  as  he 
knew  it,  up  to  the  time  of  that  visit  to  Leubronn 
in  which  he  saw  Gwendolen  Harleth  at  the  gaming- 
table. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

"  It  is  a  common  sentence  that  Knowledge  is  power ;  but  who 
hath  duly  considered  or  set  forth  the  power  of  Ignorance  ? 
Knowledge  slowly  builds  up  what  Ignorance  in  an  hour  pulls 
down.  Knowledge,  through  patient  and  frugal  centuries,  enlarges 
discovery  and  makes  record  of  it ;  Ignorance,  wanting  its  day's 
dinner,  lights  a  fire  with  the  record,  and  gives  a  flavour  to  its  one 
roast  with  the  burnt  souls  of  many  generations.  Knowledge, 
instructing  the  sense,  refining  and  multiplying  needs,  transforms 
itself  into  skill  and  makes  life  various  with  a  new  six  days'  work  ; 
comes  Ignorance  drunk  on  the  seventh,  with  a  firkin  of  oil  and  a 
match  and  an  easy  '  Let  there  not  be  '  —  and  the  many-coloured 
creation  is  shrivelled  up  in  blackness.  Of  a  truth.  Knowledge  is 
power,  but  it  is  a  power  reined  by  scruple,  having  a  conscience  of 
what  must  be  and  what  may  be  ;  whereas  Tirnorance  is  a  blind 
giant  who,  let  him  but  wax  unbound,  would  make  it  a  sport 
to  seize  the  pillars  that  hold  up  the  long-wrought  fabric  of 
human  good,  and  turn  all  the  places  of  joy  dark  as  a  buried 
Babylon.  And  looking  at  life  parcel-wise,  in  the  growth  of  a 
single  lot,  who  having  a  practised  vision  may  not  see  that  igno- 
rance of  the  true  bond  between  events,  and  false  conceit  of  meand 
whereby  sequences  may  be  compelled  —  like  that  falsity  of  eye- 
sight which  overlooks  the  gradations  of  distance,  seeing  that  which 
is  afar  off  as  if  it  were  within  a  step  or  a  grasp  —  precipitates  the 
mistaken  soul  on  destruction  1  " 

It  was  half -past  ten  in  the  morning  when  Gwendolen 
Harleth,  after  her  gloomy  journey  from  Leubronn, 
arrived  at  the  station  from  which  she  must  drive 
to  Ofifendene.  No  carriage  or  friend  was  awaiting 
her,  for  in  the  telegram  she  had  sent  from  Dover 
she  had  mentioned  a  later  train,  and  in  her  impa- 
tience of  lingering  at  a  London  station  she  had  set 
off  without  picturing  what  it  would  be  to  arrive 
unannounced  at  half  an  hour's  drive  from  home, — 
at  one  of  those  stations  which  have  been  fixed  on 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  309 

not  as  near  anywhere  but  as  equidistant  from 
everywhere.  Deposited  as  a  feme,  sole  with  her 
large  trunks,  and  having  to  wait  while  a  vehicle 
was  being  got  from  the  large-sized  lantern  called 
the  Railway  Inn,  Gwendolen  felt  that  the  dirty 
paint  in  the  waiting-room,  the  dusty  decanter  of 
flat  water,  and  the  texts  in  large  letters  calling  on 
her  to  repent  and  be  converted,  were  part  of  the 
dreary  prospect  opened  by  her  family  troubles; 
and  she  hurried  away  to  the  outer  door  looking 
towards  the  lane  and  fields.  But  here  the  very 
gleams  of  sunshine  seemed  melancholy,  for  the 
autumnal  leaves  and  grass  were  shivering,  and  the 
wind  was  turning  up  the  feathers  of  a  cock  and 
two  croaking  hens  which  had  doubtless  parted 
with  their  grown-up  offspring  and  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  themselves.  The  railway  official 
also  seemed  without  resources,  and  his  innocent 
demeanour  in  observing  Gwendolen  and  her  trunks 
was  rendered  intolerable  by  the  cast  in  his  eye ; 
especially  since,  being  a  new  man,  he  did  not 
know  her,  and  must  conclude  that  she  was  not 
very  high  in  the  world.  The  vehicle  —  a  dirty 
old  barouche  —  was  within  sight,  and  was  being 
slowly  prepared  by  an  elderly  labourer.  Con- 
temptible details  these,  to  make  part  of  a  history ; 
yet  the  turn  of  most  lives  is  hardly  to  be  accounted 
for  without  them.  They  are  continually  entering 
with  cumulative  force  into  a  mood  until  it  gets  the 
mass  and  momentum  of  a  theory  or  a  motive. 
Even  philosophy  is  not  quite  free  from  such  de- 
termining influences ;  and  to  be  dropt  solitary  at 
an  ugly  irrelevant-looking  spot  with  a  sense  of  no 
income  on  the  mind,  might  well  prompt  a  man  to 
discouraging  speculation  on  the  origin  of  things 


310  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

and  the  reason  of  a  world  where  a  subtle  thinker 
found  himself  so  badly  off.  How  much  more 
might  such  trifles  tell  on  a  young  lady  equipped 
for  society  with  a  fastidious  taste,  an  Indian  shawl 
over  her  arm,  some  twenty  cubic  feet  of  trunks  by 
her  side,  and  a  mortal  dislike  to  the  new  conscious- 
ness of  poverty  which  was  stimulating  her  imagi- 
nation of  disagreeables  ?  At  any  rate,  they  told 
heavily  on  poor  Gwendolen,  and  helped  to  quell 
her  resistant  spirit.  What  was  the  good  of  living 
in  the  midst  of  hardships,  ugliness,  and  humilia- 
tion ?  This  was  the  beginning  of  being  at  home 
again,  and  it  was  a  sample  of  what  she  had  to 
expect. 

Here  was  the  theme  on  which  her  discontent 
rung  its  sad  changes  during  her  slow  drive  in  the 
uneasy  barouche,  with  one  great  trunk  squeezing 
the  meek  driver,  and  the  other  fastened  with  a 
rope  on  the  seat  in  front  of  her.  Her  ruling  vision 
all  the  way  from  Leubronn  had  been  that  the 
family  would  go  abroad  again ;  for  of  course  there 
must  be  some  little  income  left,  — her  mamma  did 
not  mean  that  they  would  have  literally  nothing. 
To  go  to  a  dull  place  abroad  and  live  poorly,  was 
the  dismal  future  that  threatened  her :  she  had 
seen  plenty  of  poor  English  people  abroad,  and 
imagined  herself  plunged  in  the  despised  dulness 
of  their  ill-plenished  lives,  with  Alice,  Bertha, 
Fanny,  and  Isabel  all  growing  up  in  tediousness 
around  her,  while  she  advanced  towards  thirty, 
and  her  mamma  got  more  and  more  melancholy. 
But  she  did  not  mean  to  submit,  and  let  misfor- 
tune do  what  it  would  with  her :  she  had  not  yet 
quite  believed  in  the  misfortune ;  but  weariness 
and  disgust  with  this  wretched  arrival  had  begun 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  311 

to  affect  her  like  an  uncomfortable  waking  worse 
than  the  uneasy  dreams  which  had  gone  before. 
The  self-delight  with  which  she  had  kissed  her 
image  in  the  glass  had  faded  before  the  sense  of 
futility  in  being  anything  whatever  —  charming, 
clever,  resolute  —  what  was  the  good  of  it  all  ? 
Events  might  turn  out  anyhow,  and  men  were 
hateful.  Yes,  men  were  hateful.  Those  few  words 
were  filled  out  with  very  vivid  memories.  But  in 
these  last  hours  a  certain  change  had  come  over 
their  meaning.  It  is  one  thing  to  hate  stolen 
goods,  and  another  thing  to  hate  them  the  more 
because  their  being  stolen  hinders  us  from  making 
use  of  them.  Gwendolen  had  begun  to  be  angry 
with  Grandcourt  for  being  what  had  hindered  her 
from  marrying  him,  angry  with  him  as  the  cause 
of  her  present  dreary  lot. 

But  the  slow  drive  was  nearly  at  an  end,  and 
the  lumbering  vehicle  coming  up  the  avenue  was 
within  sight  of  the  windows.  A  figure  appearing 
under  the  portico  brought  a  rush  of  new  and  less 
selfish  feeling  in  Gwendolen,  and  when  springing 
from  the  carriage  she  saw  the  dear  beautiful  face 
with  fresh  lines  of  sadness  in  it,  she  threw  her 
arms  round  her  mother's  neck,  and  for  the  moment 
felt  all  sorrows  only  in  relation  to  her  mother's 
feeling  about  them. 

Behind,  of  course,  were  the  sad  faces  of  the  four 
superfluous  girls,  each,  poor  thing  —  like  those 
other  many  thousand  sisters  of  us  all  —  having  her 
peculiar  world  which  was  of  no  importance  to  any 
one  else,  but  all  of  them  feeling  Gwendolen's  pres- 
ence to  be  somehow  a  relenting  of  misfortune : 
where  Gwendolen  was,  something  interesting  would 
happen;    even    her    hurried    submission    to   their 


^2  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

kisses,  and  "  Now  go  away,  girls, '  carried  the  sort 
of  comfort  which  all  weakness  finds  in  decision 
and  authoritativeness.  Good  Miss  Meny,  whose 
air  of  meek  depression,  hitherto  held  unaccount- 
able in  a  governess  affectionately  attached  to  the 
family,  was  now  at  the  general  level  of  circum- 
stances, did  not  expect  any  greeting,  but  busied 
herself  with  the  trunks  and  the  coachman's  pay; 
while  Mrs.  Davilow  and  Gwendolen  hastened  up- 
stairs and  shut  themselves  in  the  black  and  yellow 
bedroom. 

"  Never  mind,  mamma  dear, "  said  Gwendolen, 
tenderly  pressing  her  handkerchief  against  the  tears 
that  were  rolling  down  Mrs.  Davilow 's  cheeks. 
"Never  mind.  I  don't  mind,  I  will  do  some- 
thing. I  will  be  something.  Things  will  come 
right.  It  seemed  worse  because  I  was  away. 
Come  now !  you  must  be  glad  because  I  am  here.  " 

Gwendolen  felt  every  word  of  that  speech.  A 
rush  of  compassionate  tenderness  stirred  all  her 
capability  of  generous  resolution ;  and  the  self- 
confident  projects  which  had  vaguely  glanced  be- 
fore her  during  her  journey  sprang  instantaneously 
into  new  definiteness.  Suddenly  she  seemed  to 
perceive  how  she  could  be  "  something. "  It  was 
one  of  her  best  moments ;  and  the  fond  mother, 
forgetting  everything  below  that  tide-mark,  looked 
at  her  with  a  sort  of  adoration.     She  said,  — 

"  Bless  you,  my  good,  good  darling !  I  can  be 
happy,   if  you  can !  " 

But  later  in  the  day  there  was  an  ebb ;  the  old 
slippery  rocks,  the  old  weedy  places  reappeared. 
Naturally,  there  was  a  shrinking  of  courage  as 
misfortune  ceased  to  be  a  mere  announcement,  and 
began  to  disclose  itself  as  a  grievous  tyrannical 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  313 

inmate.  At  first  —  that  ugly  drive  at  an  end  —  it 
was  still  Offendene  that  Gwendolen  had  come 
home  to,  and  all  surroundings  of  immediate  con- 
sequence to  her  were  still  there  to  secure  her 
personal  ease ;  the  roomy  stillness  of  the  large 
solid  house  while  she  rested;  all  the  luxuries  of 
her  toilet  cared  for  without  trouble  to  her ;  and  a 
little  tray  with  her  favourite  food  brought  to  her 
in  private.  For  she  had  said,  "  Keep  them  all 
away  from  us  to-day,  mamma.  Let  you  and  me 
be  alone  together. " 

When  Gwendolen  came  down  into  the  drawing- 
room,  fresh  as  a  newly  dipped  swan,  and  sat  lean- 
ing against  the  cushions  of  the  settee  beside  her 
mamma,  their  misfortune  had  not  yet  turned  its 
face  and  breath  upon  her.  She  felt  prepared  to 
hear  everything,  and  began  in  a  tone  of  deliberate 
intention,  — 

"  What  have  you  thought  of  doing  exactly, 
mamma  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  the  next  thing  to  be  done  is  to 
move  away  from  this  house.  Mr.  Haynes  most 
fortunately  is  as  glad  to  have  it  now  as  he  would 
have  been  when  we  took  it.  Lord  Brackenshaw's 
agent  is  to  arrange  everything  with  him  to  the 
best  advantage  for  us :  Bazley,  you  know ;  not  at 
all  an  ill-natured  man.  " 

"  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  Lord  Brackenshaw 
would  let  you  stay  here  rent-free,  mamma,"  said 
Gwendolen,  whose  talents  had  not  been  applied  to 
business  so  much  as  to  discernment  of  the  admira- 
tion excited  by  her  charms. 

"  My  dear  child.  Lord  Brackenshaw  is  in  Scot- 
land, and  knows  nothing  about  us.  Neither  your 
uncle  nor  I  would  choose  to  apply  to  him.     Be- 


314  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

sides,  what  could  we  do  in  this  house  without 
servants,  and  without  money  to  warm  it?  The 
sooner  we  are  out  the  better.  We  have  nothing  to 
carry  but  our  clothes,  you  know  ? " 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  to  go  abroad,  then  ?  "  said 
Gwendolen.  After  all,  this  is  what  she  had  famil- 
iarized her  mind  with. 

"  Oh,  no,  dear,  no.  How  could  we  travel  ?  You 
never  did  learn  anything  about  income  and  ex- 
penses," said  Mrs.  Davilow,  trying  to  smile,  and 
putting  her  hand  on  Gwendolen's  as  she  added 
mournfully,  "  That  makes  it  so  much  harder  for 
you,   my  pet. ' 

"  But  where  are  we  to  go  ? "  said  Gwendolen, 
with  a  trace  of  sharpness  in  her  tone.  She  felt  a 
new  current  of  fear  passing  through  her. 

"  It  is  all  decided.  A  little  furniture  is  to  be  got 
in  from  the  rectory,  —  all  that  can  be  spared.  " 
Mrs.  Davilow  hesitated.  She  dreaded  the  reality 
for  herself  less  than  the  shock  she  must  give 
Gwendolen,  who  looked  at  her  with  tense  expec- 
tancy, but  was  silent. 

"  It  is  Sawyer's  Cottage  we  are  to  go  to. " 

At  first  Gwendolen  remained  silent,  paling  with 
anger,  —  justifiable  anger,  in  her  opinion.  Then 
she  said  with  haughtiness,  — 

"  That  is  impossible.  Something  else  than  that 
ought  to  have  been  thought  of.  My  uncle  ought 
not  to  allow  that.     I  will  not  submit  to  it " 

"  My  sweet  child,  what  else  could  have  been 
thought  of  ?  Your  uncle,  I  am  sure,  is  as  kind  as 
he  can  be ;  but  he  is  suffering  himself :  he  has  his 
family  to  bring  up.  And  do  you  quite  understand  ? 
You  must  remember  —  we  have  nothing.  We  shall 
have  absolutely  nothing  except  what  he  and  my 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  315 

sister  give  us.  They  have  been  as  wise  and  active 
as  possible,  and  we  must  try  to  earn  something. 
I  and  the  girls  are  going  to  work  a  table-cloth 
border  for  the  Ladies'  Charity  at  Wanchester,  and 
a  communion  cloth  that  the  parishioners  are  to 
present  to  Pennicote  Church. " 

Mrs.  Davilow  went  into  these  details  timidly; 
but  how  else  was  she  to  bring  the  fact  of  their 
position  home  to  this  poor  child,  who,  alas !  must 
submit  at  present,  whatever  might  be  in  the  back- 
ground for  her ;  and  she  herself  had  a  superstition 
that  there  must  be  something  better  in  the  back- 
ground. 

"  But  surely  somewhere  else  than  Sawyer's 
Cottage  might  have  been  found, "  Gwendolen  per- 
sisted, taken  hold  of  (as  if  in  a  nightmare)  by 
the  image  of  this  house  where  an  exciseman  had 
lived. 

"  No,  indeed,  dear.  You  know  houses  are  scarce, 
and  we  may  bo  thankful  to  get  anything  so  pri- 
vate. It  is  not  so  very  bad.  There  are  two  little 
parlours  and  four  bedrooms.  You  shall  sit  alone 
whenever  you  like. " 

The  ebb  of  sympathetic  care  for  her  mamma  had 
gone  so  low  just  now,  that  Gwendolen  took  no 
notice  of  these  deprecatory  words. 

"  I  cannot  conceive  that  all  your  property  is 
gone  at  once,  mamma.  How  can  you  be  sure  in  so 
short  a  time  ?  It  is  not  a  week  since  you  wrote  to 
me." 

"  The  first  news  came  much  earlier,  dear.  But 
I  would  not  spoil  your  pleasure  till  it  was  quite 
necessary. " 

"  Oh,  how  vexatious !  "  said  Gwendolen,  colour- 
ing with  fresh  anger.     "  If  I  had  known,  I  could 


3i6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

have  brought  home  the  money  I  had  won ;  and  for 
want  of  knowing,  I  stayed  and  lost  it.  I  had 
nearly  two  hundred  pounds,  and  it  would  have 
done  for  us  to  live  on  a  little  while,  till  I  could 
carry  out  some  plan.  "  She  paused  an  instant,  and 
then  added  more  impetuously,  "  Everything  has 
gone  against  me.  People  have  come  near  me  only 
to  blight  me.  " 

Among  the  "  people "  she  was  including  De- 
ronda.  If  he  had  not  interfered  in  her  life,  she 
would  have  gone  to  the  gaming-table  again  with  a 
few  napoleons,  and  might  have  won  back  her 
losses. 

"  We  must  resign  ourselves  to  the  will  of  Provi- 
dence, my  child, "  said  poor  Mrs.  Davilow,  startled 
by  this  revelation  of  the  gambling,  but  not  daring 
to  say  more.  She  felt  sure  that  "  people  "  meant 
Grandcourt,  about  whom  her  lips  were  sealed. 
And  Gwendolen  answered  immediately, — 

"  But  I  don't  resign  myself.  I  shall  do  what  I 
can  against  it.  What  is  the  good  of  calling  peo- 
ple's wickedness  Providence?  You  said  in  your 
letter  it  was  Mr.  Lassmann's  fault  we  had  lost  our 
money.     Has  he  run  away  with  it  all  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  you  don't  understand.  There  were 
great  speculations :  he  meant  to  gain.  It  was  all 
about  mines  and  things  of  that  sort.  He  risked 
too  much." 

"  I  don't  call  that  Providence :  it  was  his  im- 
providence with  our  money,  and  he  ought  to  be 
punished.  Can't  we  go  to  law  and  recover  our 
fortune  ?  My  uncle  ought  to  take  measures,  and 
not  sit  down  by  such  wrongs.  We  ought  to  go  to 
law." 

"  My   dear  child,    law   can   never    bring    back 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  317 

money  lost  in  that  way.  Your  uncle  says  it  is 
milk  spilt  upon  the  ground.  Besides,  one  must 
have  a  fortune  to  get  any  law :  there  is  no  law  for 
people  who  are  ruined.  And  our  money  has  only 
gone  along  with  other  people's.  We  are  not  the 
only  sufferers :  others  have  to  resign  themselves 
besides  us. " 

"  But  I  don't  resign  myself  to  live  at  Sawyer's 
Cottage  and  see  you  working  for  sixpences  and 
shillings  because  of  that.  I  shall  not  do  it.  I 
shall  do  what  is  more  befitting  our  rank  and 
education.  " 

"  I  am  sure  your  uncle  and  all  of  us  will  approve 
of  that,  dear,  and  admire  you  the  more  for  it," 
said  Mrs.  Davilow,  glad  of  an  unexpected  opening 
for  speaking  on  a  difficult  subject.  "  I  did  n't  mean 
that  you  should  resign  yourself  to  worse  when 
anything  better  offered  itself.  Both  your  uncle 
and  aunt  have  felt  that  your  abilities  and  educa- 
tion were  a  fortune  for  you,  and  they  have  already 
heard  of  something  within  your  reach. " 

"  What  is  that,  mamma  ? "  Some  of  Gwen- 
dolen's anger  gave  way  to  interest,  and  she  was 
not  without  romantic  conjectures. 

"  There  are  two  situations  that  offer  themselves. 
One  is  in  a  bishop's  family,  where  there  are  three 
daughters,  and  the  other  is  in  quite  a  high  class  of 
school ;  and  in  both,  your  French  and  music  and 
dancing  —  and  then  your  manners  and  habits  as  a 
lady,  are  exactly  what  is  wanted.  Each  is  a  liun- 
dred  a-year  —  and  —  just  for  the  present, "  —  Mrs. 
Davilow  had  become  frightened  and  hesitating,  — 
"  to  save  you  from  the  petty,  common  way  of  living 
that  we  must  go  to  —  you  would  perhaps  accept 
one  of  the  two. " 


3i8  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  What !  be  like  Miss  Graves  at  Madame 
Meunier's?     No." 

"  I  think,  myself,  that  Dr.  Mompert's  would  be 
more  suitable.  There  could  be  uo  hardship  in  a 
bishop's  family. " 

"  Excuse  me,  mamma.  There  are  hardships 
everywhere  for  a  governess.  And  I  don't  see  that 
it  would  be  pleasanter  to  be  looked  down  on  in  a 
bishop's  family  than  in  any  other.  Besides,  you 
know  very  well  I  hate  teaching.  Fancy  me  shut 
up  with  three  awkward  girls  something  like  Alice ! 
I  would  rather  emigrate  than  be  a  governess. ' 

What  it  precisely  was  to  emigrate,  Gwendolen 
was  not  called  on  to  explain.  Mrs.  Davilow  was 
mute,  seeing  no  outlet,  and  thinking  with  dread  of 
the  collision  that  might  happen  when  Gwendolen 
had  to  meet  her  uncle  and  aunt.  There  was  an 
air  of  reticence  in  Gwendolen's  haughty  resistant 
speeches,  which  implied  that  she  had  a  definite 
plan  in  reserve ;  and  her  practical  ignorance,  con- 
tinually exhibited,  could  not  nullify  the  mother's 
belief  in  the  effectiveness  of  that  forcible  will  and 
daring  which  had  held  the  mastery  over  herself. 

"  I  have  some  ornaments,  mamma,  and  I  could 
sell  them,"  said  Gwendolen.  "  They  would  make  a 
sum:  I  want  a  little  sum  — just  to  go  on  with.  I 
dare  say  Marshall  at  Wanchester  would  take  them : 
I  know  he  showed  me  some  bracelets  once  that  he 
said  he  had  bought  from  a  lady.  Jocosa  might  go 
and  ask  him.  Jocosa  is  going  to  leave  us,  of  course. 
But  she  might  do  that  first." 

"She  would  do  anything  she  could,  poor  dear 
soul.  I  have  not  told  you  yet  —  she  wanted  me  to 
take  all  her  savings  —  her  three  hundred  pounds. 
I  tell  her  to  set  up  a  little  school     It  will  be  hard 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  319 

for  her  to  go  into  a  new  family  now  she  has  been  so 
long  with  us." 

"  Oh,  recommend  her  for  the  bishop's  daughters," 
said  Gwendolen,  with  a  sudden  gleam  of  laughter 
in  her  face.  "  I  am  sure  she  will  do  better  than  I 
should." 

"Do  take  care  not  to  say  such  things  to  your 
uncle,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow.  "He  will  be  hurt  at 
your  despising  what  he  has  exerted  himself  about. 
But  I  dare  say  you  have  something  else  in  your 
mind  that  he  might  not  disapprove,  if  you  consulted 
him." 

"  There  is  some  one  else  I  want  to  consult  first. 
Are  the  Arrowpoints  at  Quetcham  still,  and  is  Herr 
Klesmer  there  ?  But  I  dare  say  you  know  nothing 
about  it,  poor  dear  mamma.  Can  Jeffries  go  on 
horseback  with  a  note  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  Jeffries  is  not  here,  and  the  dealer 
has  taken  the  horses.  But  some  one  could  go  for 
us  from  Leek's  farm.  The  Arrowpoints  are  at 
Quetcham,  I  know.  Miss  Arrowpoint  left  her  card 
the  other  day :  I  could  not  see  her.  But  I  don't 
know  about  Herr  Klesmer.  Do  you  want  to  send 
before  to-morrow  ? " 

"  Yes,  as  soon  as  possible.  I  will  write  a  note," 
said  Gwendolen,  rising. 

"  What  can  you  be  thinking  of,  Gwen  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Davilow,  relieved  in  the  midst  of  her  wonder- 
ment by  signs  of  alacrity  and  better  humour. 

"  Don't  mind  what,  there  's  a  dear  good  mamma," 
said  Gwendolen,  reseating  herself  a  moment  to  give 
atoning  caresses.  "  I  mean  to  do  something.  Never 
mind  what,  until  it  is  all  settled.  And  then  you 
shall  be  comforted.  The  dear  face !  —  it  is  ten 
years  older  in  these  three  weeks,     Now,  now,  now  ! 


320  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

—  don't  cry  "  —  Gwendolen,  holding  her  mamma's 
head  with  both  hands,  kissed  the  trembling  eyelids. 
"  But  mind  you  don't  contradict  me  or  put  hin- 
drances in  my  way.  I  must  decide  for  myself.  I 
cannot  be  dictated  to  by  my  uncle  or  any  one 
else.  My  life  is  my  own  affair.  And  I  think  "  — 
here  her  tone  took  an  edge  of  scorn  —  "I  think  I 
can  do  better  for  you  than  let  you  live  in  Sawyer's 
Cottage." 

In  uttering  this  last  sentence  Gwendolen  again 
rose,  and  went  to  a  desk,  where  she  wrote  the  follow- 
ing note  to  Klesmer :  — 

"  Miss  Harleth  presents  her  compliments  to  Herr 
Klesmer,  and  ventures  to  request  of  him  the  very  great 
favour  that  he  will  call  upon  her  if  possible  to-morrow. 
Her  reason  for  presuming  so  far  on  his  kindness  is  of 
a  very  serious  nature.  Unfortunate  family  circum- 
stances have  obliged  her  to  take  a  course  in  which  she 
can  only  turn  for  advice  to  the  great  knowledge  and 
judgment  of  Herr  Klesmer." 

"  Pray  get  this  sent  to  Quetcham  at  once,  mamma," 
said  Gwendolen,  as  she  addressed  the  letter.  "  The 
man  must  be  told  to  wait  for  an  answer.  Let  no 
time  be  lost." 

For  the  moment  the  absorbing  purpose  was  to  get 
the  letter  despatched  ;  but  when  she  had  been  assured 
on  this  point,  another  anxiety  arose  and  kept  her 
in  a  state  of  uneasy  excitement.  If  Klesmer  hap- 
pened not  to  be  at  Quetcham,  what  could  she  do  next  ? 
Gwendolen's  belief  in  her  star,  so  to  speak,  had  had 
some  bruises.  Things  had  gone  against  her.  A 
splendid  marriage  which  presented  itself  within 
reach  had  shown  a  hideous  flaw.  The  chances  of 
roulette  had  not  adjusted  themselves  to  her  claims  j 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  321 

and  a  man  of  whom  she  knew  nothing  had  thrust 
himself  between  her  and  her  intentions.  The  con- 
duct of  those  uninteresting  people  who  managed  the 
business  of  the  world  had  been  culpable  just  in  the 
points  most  injurious  to  her  in  particular.  Gwen- 
dolen Harleth,  with  all  her  beauty  and  conscious 
force,  felt  the  close  threats  of  humiliation  :  for  the 
first  time  the  conditions  of  this  world  seemed  to  her 
like  a  hurrying  roaring  crowd  in  which  she  had  got 
astray,  no  more  cared  for  and  protected  than  a  myr- 
iad of  other  girls,  in  spite  of  its  being  a  peculiar 
hardship  to  her.  If  Klesmer  were  not  at  Quetcham 
— that  would  be  all  of  a  piece  with  the  rest:  the 
unwelcome  negative  urged  itself  as  a  probability, 
and  set  her  brain  working  at  desperate  alterna- 
tives which  might  deliver  her  from  Sawyer's  Cottage 
or  the  ultimate  necessity  of  "  taking  a  situation,"  a 
phrase  that  summed  up  for  her  the  disagreeables 
most  wounding  to  her  pride,  most  irksome  to  h6r 
tastes  ;  at  least  so  far  as  her  experience  enabled  her 
to  imagine  disagreeables. 

Still  Klesmer  might  be  there,  and  Gwendolen 
thought  of  the  result  in  that  case  with  a  hopeful- 
ness which  even  cast  a  satisfactory  light  over  her 
peculiar  troubles,  as  what  might  well  enter  into  the 
biography  of  celebrities  and  remarkable  persons. 
And  if  she  had  heard  her  immediate  acquaintances 
cross-examined  as  to  whether  they  thought  her 
remarkable,  the  first  who  said  "  No  "  would  have 
surprised  her. 

VOL.  I. — 21 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  We  please  our  fancy  with  ideal  webs 
Of  iunovatiou,  but  our  life  meanwhile 
Is  in  the  loom,  where  busy  passion  plies 
The  shuttle  to  and  fro,  and  gives  our  deeds 
The  accustomed  pattern." 

Gwendolen's  note,  coming  "  pat  betwixt  too  early 
and  too  late,"  was  put  into  Klesmer's  hands  just 
when  he  was  leaving  Quetcham,  and  in  order  to 
meet  her  appeal  to  his  kindness  he  with  some  in- 
r^onvenience  to  himself  spent  the  night  at  Wan- 
chester.  There  were  reasons  why  he  would  not 
remain  at  Quetcham. 

That  magnificent  mansion,  fitted  with  regard  to 
the  greatest  expense,  had  in  fact  become  too  hot  for 
him,  its'  owners  having,  like  some  great  politicians, 
been  astonished  at  an  insurrection  against  the  es- 
tablished order  of  things,  which  we  plain  people 
after  the  event  can  perceive  to  have  been  prepared 
under  their  very  noses. 

There  were  as  usual  many  guests  in  the  house, 
and  among  them  one  in  whom  Miss  Arrowpoiut 
foresaw  a  new  pretender  to  her  hand :  a  political 
man  of  good  family  who  confidently  expected  a  peer- 
age, and  felt  on  public  grounds  that  he  required  a 
larger  fortune  to  support  the  title  properly.  Heir- 
esses vary,  and  persons  interested  in  one  of  them 
beforehand  are  prepared  to  find  that  she  is  too  yel- 
low or  too  red,  tall  and  toppling  or  short  and  square, 
violent  and  capricious  or  moony  and  insipid ;  but  in 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  323 

every  case  it  is  taken  for  granted  that  she  will  con- 
sider herself  an  appendage  to  her  fortune,  and  marry 
where  others  think  her  fortune  ought  to  go.  Nature, 
however,  not  only  accommodates  herself  ill  to  our 
favourite  practices  by  making  "  only  children " 
daughters,  but  also  now  and  then  endows  the  mis- 
placed daughter  with  a  clear  head  and  a  strong  will. 
The  Arrowpoints  had  already  felt  some  anxiety  ow- 
ing to  these  endowments  of  their  Catherine.  She 
would  not  accept  the  view  of  her  social  duty  which 
required  her  to  marry  a  needy  nobleman  or  a  com- 
moner on  the  ladder  towards  nobility  ;  and  they  were 
not  without  uneasiness  concerning  her  persistence 
in  declining  suitable  offers.  As  to  the  possibility 
of  her  being  in  love  with  Klesmer  they  were  not  at 
all  uneasy,  —  a  very  common  sort  of  blindness.  For 
in  general  mortals  have  a  great  power  of  being  as- 
tonished at  the  presence  of  an  effect  towards  which 
they  have  done  everything,  and  at  the  absence  of 
an  effect  towards  which  they  have  done  nothing  but 
desire  it.  Parents  are  astonished  at  the  ignorance 
of  their  sons,  though  they  have  used  the  most  time- 
honoured  and  expensive  means  of  securing  it ;  hus- 
bands and  wives  are  mutually  astonished  at  the 
loss  of  affection  which  they  have  taken  no  pains 
to  keep;  and  all  of  us  in  our  turn  are  apt  to  be 
astonished  that  our  neighbours  do  not  admire  us. 
In  this  way  it  happens  that  the  truth  seems  highly 
improbable.  The  truth  is  something  different  from 
the  habitual  lazy  combinations  begotten  by  our 
wishes.  The  Arrowpoints'  hour  of  astonishment 
was  come. 

When  there  is  a  passion  between  an  heiress  and 
a  proud  independent-spirited  man,  it  is  difficult  for 
them  to  come  to  an  understanding ;  but  the  difficul- 


324  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

ties  are  likely  to  be  overcome  unless  the  proud  man 
secures  himself  by  a  constant  alibi.  Brief  meetings 
after  studied  absence  are  potent  in  disclosure :  but 
more  potent  still  is  frequent  companionship,  with 
full  sympathy  in  taste,  and  admirable  qualities  on 
both  sides ;  especially  where  the  one  is  in  the  posi- 
tion of  teacher,  and  the  other  is  delightedly  conscious 
of  receptive  ability  which  also  gives  the  teacher 
delight.  The  situation  is  famous  in  history,  and 
has  no  less  charm  now  than  it  had  in  the  days  of 
Abelard. 

But  this  kind  of  comparison  had  not  occurred  to 
the  Arrowpoints  when  they  first  engaged  Klesmer 
to  come  down  to  Quetcham.  To  have  a  first-rate 
musician  in  your  house  is  a  privilege  of  wealth ; 
Catherine's  musical  talent  demanded  every  advan- 
tage ;  and  she  particularly  desired  to  use  her  quieter 
time  in  the  country  for  more  thorough  study,  Kles- 
mer was  not  yet  a  Liszt,  understood  to  be  adored 
by  ladies  of  all  European  countries  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Lapland ;  and  even  with  that  understanding 
it  did  not  follow  that  he  would  make  proposals  to 
an  heiress.  No  musician  of  honour  would  do  so. 
Still  less  was  it  conceivable  that  Catherine  would 
give  him  the  slightest  pretext  for  such  daring. 
The  large  check  that  Mr.  Arrowpoint  was  to  draw 
in  Klesmer's  name  seemed  to  make  him  as  safe  an 
inmate  as  a  footman.  Where  marriage  is  incon- 
ceivable, a  girl's  sentiments  are  safe. 

Klesmer  was  eminently  a  man  of  honour;  but 
marriages  rarely  begin  with  formal  proposals,  and 
moreover,  Catherine's  limit  of  the  conceivable  did 
not  exactly  correspond  with  her  mother's. 

Outsiders  might  have  been  more  apt  to  think 
that  Klesmer's  position  was  dangerous  for  himself 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  325 

if  Miss  Arrowpoint  had  been  an  acknowledged 
beauty ;  not  taking  into  account  that  the  most 
powerful  of  all  beauty  is  that  which  reveals  itself 
after  sympathy  and  not  before  it.  There  is  a 
charm  of  eye  and  lip  which  comes  with  every  little 
phrase  that  certifies  delicate  perception  or  fine  judg- 
ment, with  every  unostentatious  word  or  smile  that 
shows  a  heart  awake  to  others;  and  no  sweep  of 
garment  or  turn  of  figure  is  more  satisfying  than 
that  which  enters  as  a  restoration  of  confidence 
that  one  person  is  present  on  whom  no  intention 
will  be  lost.  What  dignity  of  meaning  goes  on 
gathering  in  frowns  and  laughs  which  are  never 
observed  in  the  wrong  place;  what  suffused  ador- 
ableness  in  a  human  frame  where  there  is  &  mind 
that  can  flash  out  comprehension  and  hands  that 
can  execute  finely  !  The  more  obvious  beauty,  also 
adorable  sometimes,  —  one  may  say  it  without 
blasphemy, — begins  by  being  an  apology  for  folly, 
and  ends  like  other  apologies  in  becoming  tiresome 
by  iteration  ;  and  that  Klesmer,  though  very  suscep- 
tible to  it,  should  have  a  passionate  attachment  to 
Miss  Arrowpoint,  was  no  more  a  paradox  than  any 
other  triumph  of  a  manifold  sympathy  over  a 
monotonous  attraction.  We  object  less  to  be  taxed 
with  the  enslaving  excess  of  our  passions  than  with 
our  deficiency  in  wider  passion ;  but  if  the  truth 
were  known,  our  reputed  intensity  is  often  the  dul- 
ness  of  not  knowing  what  else  to  do  with  ourselves. 
Tannhauser,  one  suspects,  was  a  knight  of  ill- 
furnished  imagination,  hardly  of  larger  discourse 
than  a  heavy  Guardsman;  Merlin  had  certainly 
seen  his  best  days,  and  was  merely  repeating  him- 
self, when  he  fell  into  that  hopeless  captivity ;  and 
we  know  that  Ulysses  felt  so  manifest  an  ennui 


326  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

under  similar  circumstances  that  Calypso  herself 
furthered  his  departure.  There  is  indeed  a  report 
that  he  afterwards  left  Penelope  ;  but  since  she  was 
habitually  absorbed  in  worsted  work,  and  it  was 
probably  from  her  that  Telemachus  got  his  mean, 
pettifogging  disposition,  always  anxious  about  the 
property  and  the  daily  consumption  of  meat,  no 
inference  can  be  drawn  from  this  already  dubious 
scandal  as  to  the  relation  between  companionship 
and  constancy. 

Klesmer  was  as  versatile  and  fascinating  as  a 
young  Ulysses  on  a  sufficient  acquaintance,  —  one 
whom  nature  seemed  to  have  first  made  generously 
and  then  to  have  added  music  as  a, dominant  power 
using  all  the  abundant  rest,  and,  as  in  Mendelssohn, 
finding  expression  for  itself  not  only  in  the  highest 
finish  of  execution,  but  in  that  fervour  of  creative 
work  and  theoretic  belief  which  pierces  the  whole 
future  of  a  life  with  the  light  of  congruous,  devoted 
purpose.  His  foibles  of  arrogance  and  vanity  did 
not  exceed  such  as  may  be  found  in  the  best  Eng- 
lish families;  and  Catherine  Arrowpoint  had  no 
corresponding  restlessness  to  clash  with  his :  not- 
withstanding her  native  kindliness  she  was  perhaps 
too  coolly  firm  and  self-sustained.  But  she  was 
one  of  those  satisfactory  creatures  whose  inter- 
course has  the  charm  of  discovery  ;  whose  integrity 
of  faculty  and  expression  begets  a  wish  to  know 
what  they  will  say  on  all  subjects  or  how  they  will 
perform  whatever  they  undertake  ;  so  that  they  end 
by  raising  not  only  a  continual  expectation,  but  a 
continual  sense  of  fulfilment,  —  the  systole  and 
diastole  of  blissful  companionship.  In  such  cases 
the  outward  presentment  easily  becomes  what  the 
image  is  to  the  worshipper.     It  was  not  long  before 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  327 

the  two  became  aware  that  each  was  interesting  to 
the  other ;  but  the  "  how  far  "  remained  a  matter  of 
doubt.  Klesmer  did  not  conceive  that  Miss  Arrow- 
point  was  likely  to  think  of  him  as  a  possible  lover, 
and  she  was  not  accustomed  to  think  of  herself  as 
likely  to  stir  more  than  a  friendly  regard,  or  to  fear 
the  expression  of  more  from  any  man  who  was  not 
enamoured  of  her  fortune.  Each  was  content  to 
suffer  some  unshared  sense  of  denial  for  the  sake 
of  loving  the  other's  society  a  little  too  well ;  and 
under  these  conditions  no  need  had  been  felt  to 
restrict  Klesmer's  visits  for  the  last  year  either  in 
country  or  in  town.  He  knew  very  well  that  if 
Miss  Arrowpoint  had  been  poor  he  would  have 
made  ardent  love  to  her  instead  of  sending  a  storm 
through  the  piano,  or  folding  his  arms  and  pouring 
out  a  hyperbolical  tirade  about  something  as  imper- 
sonal as  the  north  pole ;  and  she  was  not  less  aware 
that  if  it  had  been  possible  for  Klesmer  to  wish  for 
her  hand  she  would  have  found  overmastering  rea- 
sons for  giving  it  to  him.  Here  was  the  safetv  of 
full  cups,  which  are  as  secure  from  overflow  as  the 
half-empty,  always  supposing  no  disturbance.  Nat- 
urally, silent  feeling  had  not  remained  at  the  same 
point  any  more  than  the  stealthy  dial-hand,  and  in 
the  present  visit  to  Quetcham,  Klesmer  had  begun 
to  think  that  he  would  not  come  again;  while 
Catherine  was  more  sensitive  to  his  frequent 
Irusqicerie,  which  she  rather  resented  as  a  needless 
eff'ort  to  assert  his  footing  of  superior  in  every  sense 
except  the  conventional. 

Meanwhile  enters  the  expectant  peer,  Mr.  Bult, 
an  esteemed  party  man  who,  rather  neutral  in 
private  life,  had  strong  opinions  concerning  the 
districts  of  the  Niger,  was  much  at  home  also  in 


328  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

the  Brazils,  spoke  with  decision  of  affairs  in  the 
South  Seas,  was  studious  of  his  Parliamentary  and 
itinerant  speeches,  and  had  the  general  solidity  and 
suffusive  pinkness  of  a  healthy  Briton  on  the  cen- 
tral table-land  of  life.  Catherine,  aware  of  a  tacit 
understanding  that  he  was  an  undeniable  husband 
for  an  heiress,  had  nothing  to  say  against  him  but 
that  he  was  thoroughly  tiresome  to  her,  Mr,  Bult 
was  amiably  confident,  and  had  no  idea  that  his 
insensibility  to  counterpoint  could  ever  be  reckoned 
against  him.  Klesmer  he  hardly  regarded  in  the 
light  of  a  serious  human  being  who  ought  to  have 
a  vote ;  and  he  did  not  mind  Miss  Arrowpoint's 
addiction  to  music  any  more  than  her  probable 
expenses  in  antique  lace.  He  was  consequently  a 
little  amazed  at  an  after-dinner  outburst  of  Kles- 
mer's  on  the  lack  of  idealism  in  English  politics, 
which  left  all  mutuality  between  distant  races  to 
be  determined  simply  by  the  need  of  a  market:  the 
crusades,  to  his  mind,  had  at  least  this  excuse,  that 
they  had  a  banner  of  sentiment  round  which  gen- 
erous feelings  could  rally :  of  course,  the  scoundrels 
rallied  too,  but  what  then  ?  they  rally  in  equal  force 
round  your  advertisement  van  of  "Buy  cheap, 
sell  dear,"  On  this  theme  Klesmer's  eloquence, 
gesticulatory  and  other,  went  on  for  a  little  while 
like  stray  fireworks  accidentally  ignited,  and  then 
sank  into  immovable  silence,  Mr.  Bult  was  not 
surprised  that  Klesmer's  opinions  should  be  fiighty, 
but  was  astonished  at  his  command  of  English 
idiom  and  his  ability  to  put  a  point  in  a  way 
that  would  have  told  at  a  constituents'  dinner,  —  to 
be  accounted  for  probably  by  his  being  a  Pole,  or  a 
Czech,  or  something  of  that  fermenting  sort,  in  a 
state  of  political  refugeeism  which  had  obliged  him 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  329 

to  make  a  profession  of  his  music ;  and  that  even- 
ing in  the  drawing-room  he  for  the  first  time  went 
up  to  Klesmer  at  the  piano,  Miss  Arrowpoint  being 
near,  and  said,  — 

"  I  had  no  idea  before  that  you  were  a  political 
man." 

Klesmer's  only  answer  was  to  fold  his  arms,  put 
out  his  nether  lip,  and  stare  at  Mr.  Bult. 

"You  must  have  been  used  to  public  speaking. 
You  speak  uncommonly  well,  though  I  don't  agree 
with  you.  From  what  you  said  about  sentiment,  I 
fancy  you  are  a  Panslavist." 

"  No ;  my  name  is  Elijah.  I  am  the  Wandering 
Jew,"  said  Klesmer,  flashing  a  smile  at  Miss  Arrow- 
point,  and  suddenly  making  a  mysterious  wind-like 
rush  backwards  and  forwards  on  the  piano.  Mr. 
Bult  felt  this  buffoonery  rather  offensive  and  Polish, 
but  —  Miss  Arrowpoint  being  there  —  did  not  like 
to  move  away. 

"  Herr  Klesmer  has  cosmopolitan  ideas,"  said  Miss 
Arrowpoint,  trying  to  make  the  best  of  the  situa- 
tion.    "He  looks  forward  to  a  fusion  of  races." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Bult,  willing  to 
be  gracious.  "I  was  sure  he  had  too  much  talent 
to  be  a  mere  musician." 

"  Ah,  sir,  you  are  under  some  mistake  there,"  said 
Klesmer,  firing  up.  "  No  man  has  too  much  talent 
to  be  a  musician.  Most  men  have  too  little.  A 
creative  artist  is  no  more  a  mere  musician  than  a 
great  statesman  is  a  mere  politician.  We  are  not 
ingenious  puppets,  sir,  who  live  in  a  box  and  look 
out  on  the  world  only  when  it  is  gaping  for  amuse- 
ment. We  help  to  rule  the  nations  and  make  the 
age  as  much  as  any  other  public  men.  We  count 
ourselves  on  level  benches  with  legislators.     And  a 


330  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

man  who  speaks  effectively  through  music  is  com- 
pelled to  something  more  difficult  than  parliamentary 
eloquence." 

With  the  last  word  Klesmer  wheeled  from  the 
piano  and  walked  away. 

Miss  Arrowpoint  coloured,  and  Mr.  Bult  observed 
with  his  usual  phlegmatic  stolidity,  "  Your  pianist 
does  not  think  small  beer  of  himself." 

"  Herr  Klesmer  is  something  more  than  a  pianist," 
said  Miss  Arrowpoint,  apologetically.  "  He  is  a 
great  musician  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word. 
He  will  rank  with  Schubert  and  Mendelssohn." 

"Ah,  you  ladies  understand  these  things,"  said 
Mr.  Bult,  none  the  less  convinced  that  these  things 
were  frivolous  because  Klesmer  had  shown  himself 
a  coxcomb. 

Catherine,  always  sorry  when  Klesmer  gave  him- 
self airs,  found  an  opportunity  the  next  day  in  the 
music-room  to  say,  "  Why  were  you  so  heated  last 
night  with  Mr.  Bult  ?     He  meant  no  harm." 

"  You  wish  me  to  be  complaisant  to  him  ? "  said 
Klesmer,  rather  fiercely. 

"  I  think  it  is  hardly  worth  your  while  to  be 
other  than  civil." 

"  You  find  no  difficulty  in  tolerating  him,  then  ? 
—  you  have  a  respect  for  a  political  platitudinarian 
as  insensible  as  an  ox  to  everything  he  can't  turn 
into  political  capital.  You  think  his  monumental 
obtuseness  suited  to  the  dignity  of  the  English 
gentleman." 

"  I  did  not  say  that." 

"  You  mean  that  I  acted  without  dignity  and  you 
are  offended  with  me." 

"Now  you  are  slightly  nearer  the  truth,"  said 
Catherine,  smiling. 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  331 

"  Then  I  had  better  put  my  burial-clothes  in  my 
portmanteau  and  set  off  at  once." 

"I  don't  see  that.  If  I  have  to  bear  your 
criticism  of  my  operetta,  you  should  not  mind  my 
criticism  of  your  impatience." 

"  But  I  do  mind  it.  You  would  have  wished  me 
to  take  his  ignorant  impertinence  about  a  '  mere 
musician '  without  letting  hiiyi  know  his  place.  I 
am  to  hear  my  gods  blasphemed  as  well  as  myself 
insulted.  But  I  beg  pardon.  It  is  impossible  you 
should  see  the  matter  as  I  do.  Even  you  can't 
understand  the  wrath  of  the  artist :  he  is  of  another 
caste  for  you." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Catherine,  with  some  betrayal 
of  feeling.  "  He  is  of  a  caste  to  which  I  look  up,  — 
a  caste  above  mine." 

Klesmer,  who  had  been  seated  at  a  table  looking 
over  scores,  started  up  and  walked  to  a  little  dis- 
tance, from  which  he  said,  — 

"That  is  finely  felt,  — I  am  grateful.  But  I  had 
better  go,  all  the  same.  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  go,  for  good  and  all.  You  can  get  on  exceedingly 
well  without  me :  your  operetta  is  on  wheels,  —  it 
will  go  of  itself.  And  your  Mr.  Bult's  company  fits 
me  '  wie  die  Faust  ins  Auge.'  I  am  neglecting  my 
engagements.     I  must  go  off  to  St.  Petersburg." 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  You  agree  with  me  that  I  had  better  go  ? "  said 
Klesmer,  with  some  irritation. 

"Certainly;  if  that  is  what  your  business  and 
feeling  prompt.  I  have  only  to  wonder  that  you 
have  consented  to  give  us  so  much  of  your  time  in 
the  last  year.  There  must  be  treble  the  interest  to 
you  anywhere  else.  I  have  never  thought  of  your 
consenting  to  come  here  as  anything  else  than  a 
sacrifice." 


332  DANIEL  DEUONDA. 

"  Why  should  I  make  the  sacrifice  ? "  said  Kles- 
mer,  going  to  seat  himself  at  the  piano,  and  touching 
the  keys  so  as  to  give  with  the  delicacy  of  an  echo 
in  the  far  distance  a  melody  which  he  had  set  to 
Heine's  "Ich  hab'  dich  geliebet  und  liebe  dich 
noch." 

"  That  is  the  mystery,"  said  Catherine,  not  wanting 
to  affect  anything,  but  from  mere  agitation.  From 
the  same  cause  she  was  tearing  a  piece  of  paper  into 
minute  morsels,  as  if  at  a  task  of  utmost  multipli- 
cation imposed  by  a  cruel  fairy. 

"  You  can  conceive  no  motive  ? "  said  Klesmer, 
folding  his"  arms. 

"  None  that  seems  in  the  least  probable." 

"  Then  I  shall  tell  you.  It  is  because  you  are  to 
me  the  chief  woman  in  the  world,  —  the  throned 
lady  whose  colours  I  carry  between  my  heart  and 
my  armour." 

Catherine's  hands  trembled  so  much  that  she 
could  no  longer  tear  the  paper ;  still  less  could  her 
lips  utter  a  word.     Klesmer  went  on,  — 

"  This  would  be  the  last  impertinence  in  me,  if  I 
meant  to  found  anything  upon  it.  That  is  out  of 
the  question.  I  mean  no  such  thing.  But  you 
once  said  it  was  your  doom  to  suspect  every  man 
who  courted  you  of  being  an  adventurer,  and  what 
made  you  angriest  was  men's  imputing  to  you  the 
folly  of  believing  that  they  courted  you  for  your 
own  sake.     Did  you  not  say  so  ? " 

"  Very  likely,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  low  murmur. 

"  It  was  a  bitter  word.  Well,  at  least  one  man 
who  has  seen  women  as  plenty  as  flowers  in  May, 
has  lingered  about  you  for  your  own  sake.  And 
since  he  is  one  whom  you  can  never  marry,  you 
will  believe  him.  That  is  an  argument  in  favour  of 
some   other  man.      But  don't  give  yourself  for  a 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  333 

meal  to  a  minotaur  like  Bult.  I  shall  go  now  and 
pack.  I  shall  make  my  excuses  to  Mrs.  Arrow- 
point."  Klesmer  rose  as  he  ended,  and  walked 
quickly  towards  the  door. 

"  You  must  take  this  heap  of  manuscript,  then," 
said  Catherine,  suddenly  making  a  desperate  effort. 
She  had  risen  to  fetch  the  heap  from  another  table. 
Klesmer  came  back,  and  they  had  the  length  of  the 
folio  sheets  between  them. 

"Why  should  I  not  marry  the  man  who  loves  me, 
if  I  love  him  ? "  said  Catherine.  To  her  the  effort 
was  something  like  the  leap  of  a  woman  from  the 
deck  into  the  lifeboat. 

"It  would  be  too  hard  — impossible  —  you  could 
not  carry  it  through.  I  am  not  worth  what  you 
would  have  to  encounter.  I  will  not  accept  the 
sacrifice.  It  would  be  thought  a  mesalliance  for  you, 
and  I  should  be  liable  to  the  worst  accusations." 

"  Is  it  the  accusations  you  are  afraid  of  ?  I  am 
afraid  of  nothing  but  that  we  should  miss  the  pass- 
ing of  our  lives  together." 

The  decisive  word  had  been  spoken :  there  was 
no  doubt  concerning  the  end  willed  by  each :  there 
only  remained  the  way  of  arriving  at  it,  and  Cather- 
ine determined  to  take  the  straightest  possible.  She 
went  to  her  father  and  mother  in  the  library,  and 
told  them  that  she  had  promised  to  marry  Klesmer. 

Mrs.  Arrowpoint's  state  of  mind  was  pitiable. 
Imagine  Jean  Jacques,  after  his  essay  on  the 
corrupting  influence  of  the  arts,  waking  up  among 
children  of  nature  who  had  no  idea  of  grilling  the 
raw  bone  they  offered  him  for  breakfast  with  the 
primitive  flint  knife ;  or  Saint  Just,  after  fervidly 
denouncing  all  recognition  of  pre-eminence,  recteiv- 
ing  a  vote  of  thanks  for  the  unbroken  mediocrity  of 


334  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

his  speech,  which  warranted  the  dullest  patriots  in 
delivering  themselves  at  equal  length.  Something 
of  the  same  sort  befell  the  authoress  of  "  Tasso," 
when  what  she  had  safely  demanded  of  the  dead 
Leonora  was  enacted  by  her  own  Catherine.  It  is 
hard  for  us  to  live  up  to  our  own  eloquence,  and 
keep  pace  with  our  winged  words,  while  we  are 
treading  the  solid  earth  and  are  liable  to  heavy 
dining.  Besides,  it  has  long  been  understood  that 
the  proprieties  of  literature  are  not  those  of  prac- 
tical life.  Mrs.  Arrowpoint  naturally  wished  for 
the  best  of  everything.  She  not  only  liked  to  feel 
herself  at  a  higher  level  of  literary  sentiment  than 
the  ladies  with  whom  she  associated ;  she  wished 
not  to  be  below  them  in  any  point  of  social  consid- 
eration. While  Klesmer  was  seen  in  the  light  of  a 
patronized  musician,  his  peculiarities  were  pictu- 
resque and  acceptable ;  but  to  see  him  by  a  sudden 
flash  in  the  light  of  her  son-in-law  gave  her  a 
burning  sense  of  what  the  world  would  say.  And 
the  poor  lady  had  been  used  to  represent  her  Cath- 
erine as  a  model  of  excellence. 

Under  the  first  shock  she  forgot  everything  but  her 
anger,  and  snatched  at  any  phrase  that  would  serve 
as  a  weapon. 

"  If  Klesmer  has  presumed  to  offer  himself  to  you, 
your  father  shall  horsewhip  him  off  the  premises. 
Pray  speak,  Mr.  Arrowpoint." 

The  father  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  and  rose 
to  the  occasion  by  saying,  "  This  will  never  do,  Cath." 

"  Do  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Arrowpoint ;  "  who  in  their 
senses  ever  thought  it  would  do?  You  might  as 
well  say  poisoning  and  strangling  will  not  do.  It 
is  a  comedy  you  have  got  up.  Catherina  Else  you 
are  mad." 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  335 

"  I  am  quite  sane  and  serious,  mamma,  and  Herr 
.Klesmer  is  not  to  blame.  He  never  thought  of  my 
marrying  him.  I  found  out  that  he  loved  me,  and 
loving  him,  I  told  him  I  would  marry  him." 

"Leave  that  unsaid,  Catherine,"  said  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint,  bitterly.  "  Every  one  else  will  say  it 
for  you.  You  will  be  a  public  fable.  Every  one 
will  say  that  you  must  have  made  the  offer  to  a 
man  who  has  been  paid  to  come  to  the  house  —  who 
is  nobody  knows  what  —  a  gypsy,  a  Jew,  a  mere 
bubble  of  the  earth." 

"  Never  mind,  mamma,"  said  Catherine,  indignant 
in  her  turn.  "  We  all  know  he  is  a  genius  —  as 
Tasso  was." 

"Those  times  were  not  these,  nor  is  Klesmer 
Tasso,"  said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  getting  more  heated. 
"  There  is  no  sting  in  that  sarcasm,  except  the  sting 
of  undutifulness." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hurt  you,  mamma.  But  I  will 
not  give  up  the  happiness  of  my  life  to  ideas  that  I 
don't  believe  in  and  customs  I  have  no  respect 
for." 

"  You  have  lost  all  sense  of  duty,  then  ?  You 
have  forgotten  that  you  are  our  only  child,  —  that  it 
lies  with  you  to  place  a  great  property  in  the  right 
hands  ? " 

"  What  are  the  right  hands  ?  My  grandfather 
gained  the  property  in  trade." 

"  Mr.  Arrowpoint,  will  you  sit  by  and  hear  this 
without  speaking  ? " 

"  I  am  a  gentleman,  Cath.  We  expect  you  to 
marry  a  gentleman,"  said  the  father,  exerting 
himself. 

"  And  a  man  connected  with  the  institutions  of 
this  country,"  said  the  mother.     "  A  woman  in  youi 


336  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

position  has  serious  duties.  Where  duty  and  incli- 
nation  clash,  she  must  follow  duty." 

"  I  don't  deny  that,"  said  Catherine,  getting  colder 
in  proportion  to  her  mother's  heat.  "  But  one  may 
say  very  true  things  and  apply  them  falsely.  People 
can  easily  take  the  sacred  word  duty  as  a  name  for 
what  they  desire  any  one  else  to  do." 

"  Your  parent's  desire  makes  no  duty  for  you, 
then?" 

"  Yes,  within  reason.  But  before  I  give  up  the 
happiness  of  my  life  —  " 

"  Catherine,  Catherine,  it  will  not  be  your  happi- 
ness," said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  in  her  most  raven-like 
tones. 

"  Well,  what  seems  to  me  my  happiness  —  before 
I  give  it  up,  I  must  see  some  better  reason  than  the 
wish  that  I  should  marry  a  nobleman,  or  a  man 
who  votes  with  a  party  that  he  may  be  turned  into 
a  nobleman.  I  feel  at  liberty  to  marry  the  man  I 
love  and  think  worthy,  unless  some  higher  duty 
forbids." 

"  And  so  it  does,  Catherine,  though  you  are 
blinded  and  cannot  see  it.  It  is  a  woman's  duty 
not  to  lower  herself.  You  are  lowering  yourself. 
Mr.  Arrowpoint,  will  you  tell  your  daughter  what 
is  her  duty  ? " 

"You  must  see,  Catherine,  that  Klesmer  is  not 
the  man  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Arrowpoint.  "  He  won't 
do  at  the  head  of  estates.  He  has  a  deuced  foreign 
look,  —  is  an  unpractical  man." 

"  I  really  can't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  it, 
papa.  The  land  of  England  has  often  passed  into 
the  hands  of  foreigners,  —  Dutch  soldiers,  sons  of 
foreign  women  of  bad  character :  if  our  land 
were  sold  to-morrow,  it  would  very  likely  pass  into 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  337 

the  hands  of  some  foreign  merchant  on  'Change. 
It  is  in  everybody's  mouth  that  successful  swindlers 
may  buy  up  half  the  land  in  the  country.  How 
can  I  stem  that  tide  ?  " 

"  It  will  never  do  to  argue  about  marriage,  Gath," 
said  Mr.  Arrowpoint.  "  It 's  no  use  getting  up  the 
subject  like  a  parliamentary  question.  We  must  do 
as  other  people  do.  We  must  think  of  the  nation 
and  the  public  good." 

"I  can't  see  any  public  good  concerned  here, 
papa,"  said  Catherine.  "  Why  is  it  to  be  expected 
of  an  heiress  that  she  should  carry  the  property 
gained  in  trade  into  the  hands  of  a  certain  class  ? 
That  seems  to  me  a  ridiculous  mish-mash  of  super- 
annuated customs  and  false  ambition.  I  should  call 
it  a  public  evil.  People  had  better  make  a  new  sort 
of  public  good  by  changing  their  ambitions." 

"  That  is  mere  sophistry,  Catherine,"  said  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint.  "  Because  you  don't  wish  to  marry  a 
nobleman,  you  are  not  obliged  to  marry  a  mounte- 
bank or  a  charlatan." 

"I  cannot  understand  the  application  of  such 
words,  mamma." 

"  No,  I  dare  say  not,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Arrowpoint, 
with  significant  scorn.  "You  have  got  to  a  pitch 
at  which  we  are  not  likely  to  understand  each 
other." 

"  It  can't  be  done,  Cath,"  said  Mr.  Arrowpoint, 
wishing  to  substitute  a  better-humoured  reasoning 
for  his  wife's  impetuosity.  "  A  man  like  Klesmer 
can't  marry  such  a  property  as  yours.  It  can't  be 
done." 

"  It  certainly  will  not  be  done,"  said  Mrs.  Arrow- 
point,   imperiously.       "  Where   is   the    man  ?     Let 
him  be  fetched." 
VOL.  1.  —  22 


338  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  I  cannot  fetch  him  to  be  insulted,"  said  Cathe- 
rine.    "  Nothing  will  be  achieved  by  that." 

"  I  suppose  you  would  wish  him  to  know  that  in 
marrying  you  he  will  not  marry  your  fortune,"  said 
Mrs.  Arrowpoint. 

"  Certainly ;  if  it  were  so,  I  should  wish  him  to 
know  it." 

"  Then  you  had  better  fetch  him." 

Catherine  only  went  into  the  music-room  and 
said,  "  Come  : "  she  felt  no  need  to  prepare  Klesmer. 

"  Herr  Klesmer,"  said  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  with  a 
rather  contemptuous  stateliness,  "  it  is  unnecessary 
to  repeat  what  has  passed  between  us  and  our  daugh- 
ter.    Mr.  Arrowpoint  will  tell  you  our  resolution." 

"  Your  marrying  is  quite  out  of  the  question," 
said  Mr.  Arrowpoint,  rather  too  heavily  weighted 
with  his  task,  and  standing  in  an  embarrassment 
unrelieved  by  a  cigar.  "  It  is  a  wild  scheme 
altogether.  A  man  has  been  called  out  for 
less." 

"You  have  taken  a  base  advantage  of  our 
confidence,"  burst  in  Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  unable  to 
carry  out  her  purpose  and  leave  the  burthen  of 
speech  to  her  husband. 

Klesmer  made  a  low  bow  in  silent  irony. 

"  The  pretension  is  ridiculous.  You  had  better 
give  it  up  and  leave  the  house  at  once,"  continued 
Mr.  Arrowpoint.  He  wished  to  do  without  men- 
tioning the  money. 

"  I  can  give  up  nothing  without  reference  to  your 
daughter's  wish,"  said  Klesmer.  "  My  engagement 
is  to  her." 

"  It  is  useless  to  discuss  the  question,"  said  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint.  "  We  shall  never  consent  to  the  mar- 
jiage.    Jf  Catherine  disobeys  us,  we  shall  disinherit 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  339 

her.  You  will  not  marry  her  fortune.  It  is  right 
you  should  know  that." 

"  Madam,  her  fortune  has  heen  the  only  thing  I 
have  had  to  regret  about  her.  But  I  must  ask  her 
if  she  will  not  think  the  sacrifice  greater  than  I  am 
worthy  of." 

"It  is  no  sacrifice  to  me,"  said  Catherine, 
"  except  that  I  am  sorry  to  hurt  my  father  and 
mother.  I  have  always  felt  my  fortune  to  be  a 
wretched  fatality  of  my  life." 

"  You  mean  to  defy  us,  then  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint. 

"  I  mean  to  marry  Herr  Klesmer,"  said  Catherine, 
firmly. 

"  He  had  better  not  count  on  our  relenting,"  said 
Mrs.  Arrowpoint,  whose  manners  suffered  from  that 
impunity  in  insult  which  has  been  reckoned  among 
the  privileges  of  women. 

"  Madam,"  said  Klesmer,  "  certain  reasons  forbid 
me  to  retort.  But  understand  that  I  consider  it  out 
of  the  power  either  of  you  or  of  your  fortune  to  con- 
fer on  me  anything  that  I  value.  My  rank  as  an 
artist  is  of  my  own  winning,  and  I  would  not 
exchange  it  for  any  other.  I  am  able  to  maintain 
your  daughter,  and  I  ask  for  no  change  in  my  life 
but  her  companionship." 

"  You  will  leave  the  house,  however,"  said  Mrs. 
Arrowpoint. 

"  I  go  at  once,"  said  Klesmer,  bowing  and  quitting 
the  room. 

"  Let  there  be  no  misunderstanding,  mamma,"  said 
Catherine;  "I  consider  myself  engaged  to  Herr 
Klesmer,  and  I  intend  to  marry  him." 

The  mother  turned  her  head  away,  and  waved  her 
hand  in  sign  of  dismissal 


340  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"It's  all  very  fine,"  said  Mr.  Arrowpoint,  when 
Catherine  was  gone ;  "  but  what  the  deuce  are  we 
to  do  with  the  property  ? " 

"There  is  Harry  Brendall.  He  can  take  the 
name." 

"Harry  Brendall  will  get  through  it  all  in  no 
time,"  said  Mr.  Arrowpoint,  relighting  his  cigar. 

And  thus,  with  nothing  settled  but  the  determi- 
nation of  the  lovers,  Klesmer  had  left  Quetcham. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

"  Among  the  heirs  of  Art,  as  at  the  division  of  the  promised  land, 
each  has  to  win  his  portion  by  hard  fighting  :  the  bestowal  is  after 
tlie  manner  of  prophecy,  and  is  a  title  without  possession.  To 
carry  the  map  of  an  ungotten  estate  in  your  pocket  is  a  poor  sort 
of  copyhold.  And  in  fancy  to  cast  his  shoe  over  Edom  is  little 
warrant  that  a  man  shall  ever  set  the  sole  of  his  foot  on  an  acre  of 
his  own  there." 

"  The  most  obstinate  beliefs  tliat  mortals  entertain  about  them- 
selves are  such  as  they  have  no  evidence  for  beyond  a  constant, 
spontaneous  pulsing  of  their  self-satisfaction, —  as  it  were  a  hidden 
seed  of  madness,  a  confidence  that  they  can  move  the  world  with- 
out precise  notion  of  standing-place  or  lever.  " 

"  Pray  go  to  church,  mamma,"  said  Gwendolen  the 
next  morning.  "  I  prefer  seeing  Herr  Klesmer 
alone."  (He  had  written  in  reply  to  her  note  that 
he  would  be  with  her  at  eleven.) 

"That  is  hardly  correct,  I  think,"  said  Mrs. 
Davilow,  anxiously. 

"  Our  affairs  are  too  serious  for  us  to  think  of 
such  nonsensical  rules,"  said  Gwendolen,  contemptu- 
ously.    "  They  are  insulting  as  well  as  ridiculous." 

"  You  would  not  mind  Isabel  sitting  with  you  ? 
She  would  be  reading  in  a  corner." 

"  No,  she  could  not :  she  would  bite  her  nails  and 
stare.  It  would  be  too  irritating.  Trust  my  judg- 
ment, mamma.  I  must  be  alone.  Take  them  all  to 
church." 

Gwendolen  had  her  way,  of  course ;  only  that 
iMiss  Merry  and  two  of  the  girls  stayed  at  home,  to 
give  the  house  a  look  of  habitation  by  sitting  at  the 
dining-room  windows. 


34i  1)ANIEL  DERONDA. 

It  was  a  delicious  Sunday  morning.  The  melan- 
choly waning  sunshine  of  autumn  rested  on  the  leaf- 
strewn  grass  and  came  mildly  through  the  windows 
in  slanting  bands  of  brightness  over  the  old  furni- 
ture, and  the  glass  panel  that  reflected  the  furniture ; 
over  the  tapestried  chairs  with  their  faded  flower- 
wreaths,  the  dark  enigmatic  pictures,  the  superan- 
nuated organ  at  which  Gwendolen  had  pleased 
herself  with  acting  Saint  Cecilia  on  her  first  joyous 
arrival,  the  crowd  of  pallid,  dusty  knick-knacks  seen 
through  the  open  doors  of  the  antechamber  where 
she  had  achieved  the  wearing  of  her  Greek  dress  as 
Hermione.  This  last  memory  was  just  now  very 
busy  in  her ;  for  had  not  Klesmer  then  been  struck 
with  admiration  of  her  pose  and  expression  ?  What- 
ever he  had  said,  whatever  she  imagined  him  to 
have  thought,  was  at  this  moment  pointed  with 
keenest  interest  for  her:  perhaps  she  had  never 
before  in  her  life  felt  so  inwardly  dependent,  so  con- 
sciously in  need  of  another  person's  opinion.  There 
was  a  new  fluttering  of  spirit  within  her,  a  new 
element  of  deliberation  in  her  self-estimate,  which 
had  hitherto  been  a  blissful  gift  of  intuition.  Still 
it  was  the  recurrent  burthen  of  her  inward  soliloquy 
that  Klesmer  had  seen  but  little  of  her,  and  any 
unfavourable  conclusion  of  his  must  have  too  narrow 
a  foundation.  She  really  felt  clever  enough  for 
anything. 

To  fill  up  the  time  she  collected  her  volumes  and 
pieces  of  music,  and  laying  them  on  the  top  of  the 
piano,  set  herself  to  classify  them.  Then  catching 
the  reflection  of  her  movements  in  the  glass  panel, 
she  was  diverted  to  the  contemplation  of  the  image 
there  and  walked  towards  it.  Dressed  in  black, 
without  a   single   ornament,   and   with   the   warm 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  343 

whiteness  of  her  skin  set  off  between  her  light- 
brown  coronet  of  hair  and  her  square-cut  bodice, 
she  might  have  tempted  an  artist  to  try  again  the 
Roman  trick  of  a  statue  in  black,  white,  and  tawny 
marble.  Seeing  her  image  slowly  advancing,  she 
thought,  "  I  am  beautiful,"  —  not  exultingly,  but 
with  grave  decision.  Being  beautiful  was,  after  all, 
the  condition  on  which  she  most  needed  exter- 
nal testimony.  If  any  one  objected  to  the  turn  of 
her  nose  or  the  form  of  her  neck  and  chin,  she  had 
not  the  sense  that  she  could  presently  show  her 
power  of  attainment  in  these  branches  of  feminine 
perfection. 

There  was  not  much  time  to  fill  up  in  this  way 
before  the  sound  of  wheels,  the  loud  ring,  and  the 
opening  doors  assured  her  that  she  was  not  by  any 
accident  to  be  disappointed.  This  slightly  increased 
her  inward  flutter.  In  spite  of  her  self-confidence, 
she  dreaded  Klesmer  as  part  of  that  unmanageable 
world  which  was  independent  of  her  wishes, —  some- 
thing vitriolic  that  would  not  cease  to  burn  because 
you  smiled  or  frowned  at  it.  Poor  thing !  she  was  at 
a  higher  crisis  of  her  woman's  fate  than  in  her  past 
experience  with  Grandcourt.  The  questioning,  then, 
was  whether  she  should  take  a  particular  man  as  a 
husband.  The  inmost  fold  of  her  questioning  now 
was  whether  she  need  take  a  husband  at  all, — '■ 
whether  she  could  not  achieve  substantiality  for 
herself,  and  know  gratified  ambition  without 
bondage. 

Klesmer  made  his  most  deferential  bow  in  the 
wide  doorway  of  the  antechamber, —  showing  also 
the  deference  of  the  finest  gray  kerseymere  trousers 
and  perfect  gloves  (the  "  masters  of  those  who  know  " 
are  happily   altogether   human).     Gwendolen    met 


344  DANIEL  BERONDA. 

him  with  unusual  gravity,  and  holding  out  her  hand, 
said,  "  It  is  most  kind  of  you  to  come,  Herr  Klesmer. 
I  hope  you  have  not  thought  me  presumptuous." 

"  I  took  your  wish  as  a  command  that  did  me 
honour,"  said  Klesmer,  with  answering  gravity.  He 
was  really  putting  by  his  own  affairs  in  order  to 
give  his  utmost  attention  to  what  Gwendolen  might 
have  to  say ;  but  his  temperament  was  still  in  a 
state  of  excitation  from  the  events  of  yesterday, 
likely  enough  to  give  his  expressions  a  more  than 
usually  biting  edge. 

Gwendolen  for  once  was  under  too  great  a  strain 
of  feeling  to  remember  formalities.  She  continued 
standing  near  the  piano,  and  Klesmer  took  his 
stand  at  the  other  end  of  it,  with  his  back  to  the 
light  and  his  terribly  omniscient  eyes  upon  her. 
No  affectation  was  of  use,  and  she  began  without 
delay. 

"  I  wish  to  consult  you,  Herr  Klesmer.  We  have 
lost  all  our  fortune ;  we  have  nothing.  I  must  get 
my  own  bread,  and  I  desire  to  provide  for  my  mamma, 
so  as  to  save  her  from  any  hardship.  The  only  way 
I  can  think  of  —  and  I  should  like  it  better  than 
anything  —  is  to  be  an  actress  —  to  go  on  the  stage. 
But  of  course  I  should  like  to  take  a  high  position, 
and  I  thought  —  if  you  thought  I  could,"  —  here 
Gwendolen  became  a  little  more  nervous,  —  "it 
would  be  better  for  me  to  be  a  singer  —  to  study 
singing  also." 

Klesmer  put  down  his  hat  on  the  piano,  and 
folded  his  arms  as  if  to  concentrate  himself. 

"I  know,"  Gwendolen  resumed,  turning  from 
pale  to  pink  and  back  again,  —  "I  know  that  my 
method  of  singing  is  very  defective;  but  I  have  been 
ill  taught     I  could  be  better  taught ;  I  could  study. 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  345 

And  you  will  understand  my  wish :  to  sing  and 
act  too,  like  Grisi,  is  a  much  higher  position. 
Naturally,  I  should  wish  to  take  as  high  a  rank  as  I 
can.  And  I  can  rely  on  your  judgment.  I  am  sure 
you  will  tell  me  the  truth." 

,  Gwendolen  somehow  had  the  conviction  that  now 
she  made  this  serious  appeal  the  truth  would  be 
favourable. 

Still  Klesmer  did  not  speak.  He  drew  off  his 
gloves  quickly,  tossed  them  into  his  hat,  rested  his 
hands  on  his  hips,  and  walked  to  the  other  end  of 
the  room.  He  was  filled  with  compassion  for  this 
girl :  he  wanted  to  put  a  guard  on  his  speech. 
When  he  turned  again,  he  looked  at  her  with  a  mild 
frown  of  inquiry,  and  said  with  gentle  though  quick 
utterance,  "  You  have  never  seen  anything,  I  think, 
of  artists  and  their  lives  ?  —  I  mean  of  musicians, 
actors,  artists  of  that  kind  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Gwendolen,  not  perturbed  by  a 
reference  to  this  obvious  fact  in  the  history  of  a 
young  lady  hitherto  well  provided  for. 

"  You  are,  —  pardon  me,"  said  Klesmer,  again  paus- 
ing near  the  piano,  —  "  in  coming  to  a  conclusion  on 
such  a  matter  as  this,  everything  must  be  taken 
into  consideration,  —  you  are  perhaps  twenty  ? " 

"  I  am  twenty-one,"  said  Gwendolen,  a  slight  fear 
rising  in  her.     "  Do  you  think  I  am  too  old  ? " 

Klesmer  pouted  his  under  lip  and  shook  his  long 
fingers  upward  in  a  manner  totally  enigmatic. 

"  Many  persons  begin  later  than  others,"  said 
Gwendolen,  betrayed  by  her  habitual  consciousness 
of  having  valuable  information  to  bestow. 

Klesmer  took  no  notice,  but  said  with  more 
studied  gentleness  than  ever,  "  You  have  probably 
not  thought  of  an  artistic  career  until  now :  you  did 


^6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

not  entertain  the  notion,  the  longing  —  what  shall  I 
say  ?  — you  did  not  wish  yourself  an  actress,  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort,  till  the  present  trouble  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly  ;  but  I  was  fond  of  acting.  I  have 
acted ;  you  saw  me,  if  you  remember  —  you  saw  me 
here  in  charades,  and  as  Hermione,"  said  Gwendolen, 
really  fearing  that  Klesmer  had  forgotten. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  answered  quickly,  "  I  remember  — 
I  remember  perfectly,"  and  again  walked  to  the 
other  end  of  the  room.  It  was  difficult  for  him  to 
refrain  from  this  kind  of  movement  when  he  was  in 
any  argument  either  audible  or  silent. 

Gwendolen  felt  that  she  was  being  weighed.  The 
delay  was  unpleasant.  But  she  did  not  yet  conceive 
that  the  scale  could  dip  on  the  wrong  side,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  only  graceful  to  say,  "  I  shall  be  very 
much  obliged  to  you  for  taking  the  trouble  to  give 
me  your  advice,  whatever  it  may  be." 

"Miss  Harleth,"  said  Klesmer,  turning  towards 
her  and  speaking  with  a  slight  increase  of  accent, 
"  I  will  veil  nothing  from  you  in  this  matter.  I 
should  reckon  myself  guilty  if  I  put  a  false  visage 
on  things, — made  them  too  black  or  too  white.  The 
gods  have  a  curse  for  him  who  willingly  tells  another 
the  wrong  road.  And  if  I  misled  one  who  is  so 
young,  so  beautiful  —  who,  I  trust,  will  find  her 
happiness  along  the  right  road,  I  should  regard  my- 
self as  a  —  Bosewichi."  In  the  last  word  Klesmer's 
voice  had  dropped  to  a  loud  whisper. 

Gwendolen  felt  a  sinking  of  heart  under  this  unex- 
pected solemnity,  and  kept  a  sort  of  fascinated  gaze 
on  Klesmer's  face,  while  he  went  on. 

"  You  are  a  beautiful  young  lady  —  you  have  been 
brought  up  in  ease  —  you  have  done  what  you  would 
—  you  have  not  said  to  yourself, '  I  must  know  this 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  347 

exactly,'  '  I  must  understand  this  exactly,'  '  I  must 
do  this  exactly  '"  —  in  uttering  these  three  terrible 
musts,  Klesmer  lifted  up  three  long  fingers  in  suc- 
cession. "  In  sum,  you  have  not  been  called  upon 
to  be  anything  but  a  charming  young  lady,  whom  it 
is  an  impoliteness  to  find  fault  with." 

He  paused  an  instant ;  then  resting  his  fingers  on 
his  hips  again,  and  thrusting  out  his  powerful  chin, 
he  said,  — 

"Well,  then,  with  that  preparation  you  wish  to 
try  the  life  of  the  artist ;  you  wish  to  try  a  life  of 
arduous,  unceasing  work,  and  —  uncertain  praise. 
Your  praise  would  have  to  be  earned,  like  your 
bread;  and  both  would  come  slowly,  scantily  — 
what  do  I  say  ?  —  they  might  hardlv  come  at 
all." 

This  tone  of  discouragement,  which  Klesmer  half 
hoped  might  suffice  without  anything  more  un- 
pleasant, roused  some  resistance  in  Gwendolen. 
With  a  slight  turn  of  her  head  away  from  him, 
and  an  air  of  pique,  she  said,  — 

"  I  thought  that  you,  being  an  artist,  would  con- 
sider the  life  one  of  the  most  honourable  and  de- 
lightful. And  if  I  can  do  nothing  better  ?  —  I 
suppose  I  can  put  up  with  the  same  risks  as  other 
people  do." 

"  Do  nothing  better  ? "  said  Klesmer,  a  little  fired. 
"  No,  my  dear  Miss  Harleth,  you  could  do  nothing 
better  —  neither  man  nor  woman  could  do  anything 
better  —  if  you  could  do  what  was  best  or  good  of 
its  kind.  I  am  not  decrying  the  life  of  the  true 
artist.  I  am  exalting  it.  I  say,  it  is  out  of  the 
reach  of  any  but  choice  organizations,  —  natures 
framed  to  love  perfection  and  to  labour  for  it; 
ready,  like  all  true  lovers,  to  endure,  to  wait,  to  say, 


348  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

I  am  not  yet  worthy,  but  she  —  Art,  my  mistress  —  is 
worthy,  and  I  will  live  to  merit  her.  An  honourable 
life  ?  Yes.  But  the  honour  comes  from  the  inward 
vocation  and  the  hard-won  achievement :  there  is  no 
honour  in  donning  the  life  as  a  livery," 

Some  excitement  of  yesterday  had  revived  in 
Klesmer,  and  hurried  him  into  speech  a  little  aloof 
from  his  immediate  friendly  purpose.  He  had 
wished  as  delicately  as  possible  to  rouse  in  Gwen- 
dolen a  sense  of  her  unfitness  for  a  perilous,  difficult 
course;  but  it  was  his  wont  to  be  angry  with  the 
pretensions  of  incompetence,  and  he  was  in  danger 
of  getting  chafed.  Conscious  of  this,  he  paused 
suddenly.  But  Gwendolen's  chief  impression  was 
that  he  had  not  yet  denied  her  the  power  of  doing 
what  would  be  good  of  its  kind.  Klesmer's  fervour 
seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  glamour  such  as  he  was  prone 
to  throw  over  things  in  general;  and  what  she 
desired  to  assure  him  of  was  that  she  was  not 
afraid  of  some  preliminary  hardships.  The  belief 
that  to  present  herself  in  public  on  the  stage  must 
produce  an  effect  such  as  she  had  been  used  to  feel 
certain  of  in  private  life,  was  like  a  bit  of  her  flesh, 
—  it  was  not  to  be  peeled  off  readily,  but  must  come 
with  blood  and  pain.  She  said,  in  a  tone  of  some 
insistence,  — 

"I  am  quite  prepared  to  bear  hardships  at  first. 
Of  course  no  one  can  become  celebrated  all  at  once. 
And  it  is  not  necessary  that  every  one  should  be 
first-rate,  —  either  actresses  or  singers.  If  you  would 
be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me  what  steps  I  should  take,  I 
shall  have  the  courage  to  take  them.  I  don't  mind 
going  up  hill.  It  will  be  easier  than  the  dead  level 
of  being  a  governess.  I  will  take  any  steps  you 
recommend," 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  349 

Klesmer  was  more  couvinced  now  that  he  must 
speak  plainly. 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  steps,  not  that  I  recommend, 
but  that  will  be  forced  upon  you.  It  is  all  one,  so 
far,  what  your  goal  may  be,  —  excellence,  celebrity, 
second,  third  rateness,  —  it  is  all  one.  You  must  go 
to  town  under  the  protection  of  your  mother.  You 
must  put  yourself  under  training,  —  musical,  dra- 
matic, theatrical:  whatever  you  desire  to  do  you 
have  to  learn  —  "  Here  Gwendolen  looked  as  if  she 
were  going  to  speak,  but  Klesmer  lifted  up  his  hand 
and  said  decisively :  "  I  know.  You  have  exercised 
your  talents  —  you  recite  —  you  sing  —  from  the 
drawing-room  standpunkt.  My  dear  Fraulein,  you 
must  unlearn  all  that.  You  have  not  yet  conceived 
what  excellence  is  :  you  must  unlearn  your  mistaken 
admirations.  You  must  know  what  you  have  to 
strive  for,  and  then  you  must  subdue  your  mind  and 
body  to  unbroken  discipline.  Your  mind,  I  say. 
For  you  must  not  be  thinking  of  celebrity  :  put 
that  candle  out  of  your  eyes,  and  look  only  at  ex- 
cellence. You  would  of  course  earn  nothing, —  you 
could  get  no  engagement  for  a  long  while.  You 
would  need  money  for  yourself  and  your  family. 
But  that,"  here  Klesmer  frowned  and  shook  his 
fingers  as  if  to  dismiss  a  triviality  —  "  that  could 
perhaps  be  found." 

Gwendolen  turned  pink  and  pale  during  this 
speech.  Her  pride  had  felt  a  terrible  knife-edge, 
and  the  last  sentence  only  made  the  smart  keener. 
She  was  conscious  of  appearing  moved,  and  tried  to 
escape  from  her  weakness  by  suddenly  walking  to  a 
seat  and  pointing  out  a  chair  to  Klesmer.  He  did 
not  take  it,  but  turned  a  little  in  order  to  face  her 
and  leaned  against  the  piano.     At  that  moment  she 


350  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

wished  that  she  had  not  sent  for  him :  this  first 
experience  of  being  taken  on  some  other  ground 
than  that  of  her  social  rank  and  her  beauty  was 
becoming  bitter  to  her.  Klesmer,  preoccupied  with 
a  serious  purpose,  went  on  without  change  of  tone. 

"  Now,  what  sort  of  issue  might  be  fairly  expected 
from  all  this  self-denial?  You  would  ask  that. 
It  is  right  that  your  eyes  should  be  open  to  it. 
I  will  tell  you  truthfully.  The  issue  would  be 
uncertain,  and  —  most  probably  —  would  not  be 
worth  much." 

At  these  relentless  words  Klesmer  put  out  his 
lip  and  looked  through  his  spectacles  with  the  air 
of  a  monster  impenetrable  by  beauty. 

Gwendolen's  eyes  began  to  burn,  but  the  dread 
of  showing  weakness  urged  her  to  added  self-control. 
She  compelled  herself  to  say  in  a  hard  tone,  — 

"  You  think  I  want  talent,  or  am  too  old  to 
begin." 

Klesmer  made  a  sort  of  hum,  and  then  descended 
on  an  emphatic  "  Yes  !  The  desire  and  the  training 
should  have  begun  seven  years  ago  —  or  a  good  deal 
earlier.  A  mountebank's  child  who  helps  her  father 
to  earn  shillings  when  she  is  six  years  old,  —  a  child 
that  inherits  a  singing  throat  from  a  long  line  of 
choristers  and  learns  to  sing  as  it  learns  to  talk, 
has  a  likelier  beginning.  Any  great  achievement 
in  acting  or  in  music  grows  with  the  growth. 
Whenever  an  artist  has  been  able  to  say,  '  I  came, 
I  saw,  I  conquered,'  it  has  been  at  the  end  of 
patient  practice.  Genius  at  first  is  little  more  than 
a  great  capacity  for  receiving  discipline.  Singing 
and  acting,  like  the  fine  dexterity  of  the  juggler 
with  his  cups  and  balls,  require  a  shaping  of  the 
organs  towards  a  finer  and  finer  certainty  of  effect. 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  351 

Your  muscles  —  your  whole  frame  —  must  go  like 
a  watch,  true,  true,  true,  to  a  hair.  That  is  the 
work  of  spring-time,  before  habits  have  been 
determined." 

"  I  did  not  pretend  to  genius,"  said  Gwendolen, 
still  feeling  that  she  might  somehow  do  what 
Klesmer  wanted  to  represent  as  impossible.  "I 
only  supposed  that  I  might  have  a  little  talent,  — 
enough  to  improve." 

"  I  don't  deny  that,"  said  Klesmer.  "  If  you  had 
been  put  in  the  right  track  some  years  ago  and  had 
worked  well,  you  might  now  have  made  a  public 
singer,  though  I  don't  think  your  voice  would  have 
counted  for  much  in  public.  For  the  stage  your 
personal  charms  and  intelligence  might  then  have 
told  without  the  present  drawback  of  inexperience, 
—  lack  of  discipline,  —  lack  of  instruction." 

Certainly  Klesmer  seemed  cruel,  but  his  feeling 
was  the  reverse  of  cruel.  Our  speech  even  when 
we  are  most  single-minded  can  never  take  its  line 
absolutely  from  one  impulse;  but  Klesmer' s  was 
as  far  as  possible  directed  by  compassion  for  poor 
Gwendolen's  ignorant  eagerness  to  enter  on  a  course 
of  which  he  saw  all  the  miserable  details  with  a 
definiteness  which  he  could  not  if  he  would  have 
conveyed  to  her  mind. 

Gwendolen,  however,  was  not  convinced.  Her 
self-opinion  rallied,  and  since  the  counsellor  whom 
she  had  called  in  gave  a  decision  of  such  severe 
peremptoriness,  she  was  tempted  to  think  that  his 
judgment  was  not  only  fallible  but  biassed.  It 
occurred  to  her  that  a  simpler  and  wiser  step  for 
her  to  have  taken  would  have  been  to  send  a  letter 
through  the  post  to  the  manager  of  a  London  the- 
atre, asking   him  to  make  an   appointment.      Sh^ 


352  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

would  make  no  further  reference  to  her  singing: 
Klesmer,  she  saw,  had  set  himself  against  her 
singing.  But  she  felt  equal  to  arguing  with  him 
about  her  going  on  the  stage,  and  she  answered  in 
a  resistant  tone, — 

"I  understand,  of  course,  that  no  one  can  be  a 
finished  actress  at  once.  It  may  be  impossible  to 
tell  beforehand  whether  I  should  succeed ;  but  that 
seems  to  me  a  reason  why  I  should  try.  I  should 
have  thought  that  I  might  have  taken  an  engage- 
ment at  a  theatre  meanwhile,  so  as  to  earn  money 
and  study  at  the  same  time." 

"  Can't  be  done,  my  dear  Miss  Harleth  —  I  speak 
plainly  — it  can't  be  done.  I  must  clear  your  mind 
of  these  notions,  which  have  no  more  resemblance  to 
reality  than  a  pantomime.  Ladies  and  gentlemen 
think  that  when  they  have  made  their  toilet  and 
drawn  on  their  gloves  they  are  as  presentable  on 
the  stage  as  in  a  drawing-room.  No  manager  thinks 
that.  With  all  your  grace  and  charm,  if  you  were 
to  present  yourself  as  an  aspirant  to  the  stage,  a 
manager  would  either  require  you  to  pay  as  an 
amateur  for  being  allowed  to  perform,  or  he  would 
tell  you  to  go  and  be  taught,  —  trained  to  bear  your- 
self on  the  stage,  as  a  horse,  however  beautiful,  must 
be  trained  for  the  circus ;  to  say  nothing  of  that 
study  which  would  enable  you  to  personate  a  char- 
acter consistently,  and  animate  it  with  the  natural 
language  of  face,  gesture,  and  tone.  For  you  to 
get  an  engagement  fit  for  you  straight  away  is 
out  of  the  question." 

"  I  really  cannot  understand  that,"  said  Gwen- 
dolen, rather  haughtily  —  then,  checking  herself, 
she  added  in  another  tone  —  "I  shall  be  obliged 
to  you  if  you  will  explain  how  it  is  that  such  poor 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  353 

actresses  get  engaged.  I  have  been  to  the  theatre 
several  times,  and  I  am  sure  there  were  actresses 
who  seemed  to  me  to  act  not  at  all  well  and  who 
were  quite  plain." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Miss  Harleth,  that  is  the  easy 
criticism  of  the  buyer.  We  who  buy  slippers  toss 
away  this  pair  and  the  other  as  clumsy ;  but  there 
went  an  apprenticeship  to  the  making  of  them. 
Excuse  me:  you  could  not  at  present  teach  one 
of  those  actresses ;  but  there  is  certainly  much 
that  she  could  teach  you.  For  example,  she  can 
pitch  her  voice  so  as  to  be  heard :  ten  to  one  you 
could  not  do  it  till  after  many  trials.  Merely  to 
stand  and  move  on  the  stage  is  an  art,  —  requires 
practice.  It  is  understood  that  we  are  not  now 
talking  of  a  co7nparse  in  a  petty  theatre  who  earns 
the  wages  of  a  needlewoman.  That  is  out  of  the 
question  for  you." 

"  Of  course  I  must  earn  more  than  that,"  said 
Gwendolen,  with  a  sense  of  wincing  rather  than 
of  being  refuted ;  "  but  I  think  I  could  soon  learn 
to  do  tolerably  well  all  those  little  things  you  have 
mentioned.  I  am  not  so  very  stupid.  And  even 
in  Paris  I  am  sure  I  saw  two  actresses  playing 
important  ladies'  parts  who  were  not  at  all  ladies 
and  quite  ugly.  I  suppose  I  have  no  particular 
talent,  but  I  must  think  it  is  an  advantage,  even 
on  the  stage,  to  be  a  lady  and  not  a  perfect  fright." 

"  Ah,  let  us  understand  each  other,"  said  Klesmer, 
with  a  flash  of  new  meaning.  "  I  was  speaking  of 
what  you  would  have  to  go  through  if  you  aimed  at 
becoming  a  real  artist,  —  if  you  took  music  and 
the  drama  as  a  higher  vocation  in  which  you  would 
strive  after  excellence.  On  that  head,  what  I 
have  said  stands  fast.  You  would  find  —  aftei 
VOL.  I.  —  23 


354  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

your  education  in  doing  things  slackly  for  one-and- 
twenty  years  —  great  difficulties  in  study :  you 
would  find  mortifications  in  the  treatment  you 
would  get  when  you  presented  yourself  on  the 
footing  of  skill.  You  would  be  subjected  to  tests ; 
people  would  no  longer  feign  not  to  see  your  blunders. 
You  would  at  first  only  be  accepted  on  trial.  You 
would  have  to  bear  what  I  may  call  a  glaring  insig- 
nificance :  any  success  must  be  won  by  the  utmost 
patience.  You  would  have  to  keep  your  place  in 
a  crowd,  and  after  all  it  is  likely  you  would  lose 
it  and  get  out  of  sight.  If  you  determine  to  face 
these  hardships  and  still  try,  you  will  have  the 
dignity  of  a  high  purpose,  even  though  you  may 
have  chosen  unfortunately.  You  will  have  some 
merit,  though  you  may  win  no  prize.  You  have 
asked  my  judgment  on  your  chances  of  winning. 
I  don't  pretend  to  speak  absolutely;  but  measur- 
ing probabilities,  my  judgment  is  —  you  will 
hardly  achieve    more   than   mediocrity." 

Klesmer  had  delivered  himself  with  emphatic 
rapidity,  and  now  paused  a  moment.  Gwendolen 
was  motionless,  looking  at  her  hands,  which  lay 
over  each  other  on  her  lap,  till  the  deep-toned, 
long-drawn  "But"  with  which  he  resumed,  had 
a  startling  effect,  and  made  her  look  at  him  again. 

"  But  —  there  are  certainly  other  ideas,  other  dis- 
positions with  which  a  young  lady  may  take  up  an 
art  that  will  bring  her  before  the  public.  She  may 
rely  on  the  unquestioned  power  of  her  beauty  as  a 
passport.  She  may  desire  to  exhibit  herself  to  an 
admiration  which  dispenses  with  skill.  This  goes 
a  certain  way  on  the  stage :  not  in  music ;  but  on 
the  stage,  beauty  is  taken  when  there  is  nothing 
more  commanding  to  be  had.     Not  without  some 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  355 

drilling,  however:  as  I  have  said  before,  techni- 
calities  have  in  any  case  to  be  mastered.  But 
these  excepted,  we  have  here  nothing  to  do  with 
art.  The  woman  who  takes  up  this  career  is  not 
an  artist :  she  is  usually  one  who  thinks  of  enter- 
ing on  a  luxurious  life  by  a  short  and  easy  road 
—  perhaps  by  marriage  —  that  is  her  most  bril- 
liant chance,  and  the  rarest.  Still,  her  career  will 
not  be  luxurious  to  begin  with :  she  can  hardly 
earn  her  own  poor  bread  independently  at  once, 
and  the  indignities  she  will  be  liable  to  are  such 
as  I  will  not  speak  of." 

"I  desire  to  be  independent,"  said  Gwendolen, 
deeply  stung  and  confusedly  apprehending  some 
scorn  for  herself  in  Klesmer's  words.  "That  was 
my  reason  for  asking  whether  I  could  not  get  an 
immediate  engagement.  Of  course  I  cannot  know 
how  things  go  on  about  theatres.  But  I  thought 
that  I  could  have  made  myself  independent.  I 
have  no  money,  and  I  will  not  accept  help  from  any 
one." 

Her  wounded  pride  could  not  rest  without  mak- 
ing this  disclaimer.  It  was  intolerable  to  her  that 
Klesmer  should  imagine  her  to  have  expected  other 
help  from  him  than  advice. 

"That  is  a  hard  saying  for  your  friends,"  said  Kles- 
mer, recovering  the  gentleness  of  tone  with  which 
he  had  begun  the  conversation.  "  I  have  given  you 
pain.  That  was  inevitable.  I  was  bound  to  put 
the  truth,  the  unvarnished  truth,  before  you.  I 
have  not  said  —  I  will  not  say  —  you  will  do  wrong 
to  choose  the  hard,  climbing  path  of  an  endeavour- 
ing artist.  You  have  to  compare  its  difficulties  with 
those  of  any  less  hazardous  —  any  more  private 
course  which  opens  itself  to  you.     If  you  take  that 


3s6  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

more  courageous  resolve,  I  will  ask  leave  to  shake 
hands  with  you  on  the  strength  of  our  free-masonry, 
where  we  are  all  vowed  to  the  service  of  Art,  and 
to  serve  her  by  helping  every  fellow-servant." 

Gwendolen  was  silent,  again  looking  at  her  hands. 
She  felt  herself  very  far  away  from  taking  the  re- 
solve that  would  enforce  acceptance ;  and  after 
waiting  an  instant  or  two,  Klesmer  went  on  with 
deepened  seriousness. 

"  When  there  is  the  duty  of  service,  there  must  be 
the  duty  of  accepting  it.  The  question  is  not  one  of 
personal  obhgation.  And  in  relation  to  practical 
matters  immediately  afifecting  your  future,  —  excuse 
my  permitting  myself  to  mention  in  confidence  an 
affair  of  my  own.  I  am  expecting  an  event  which 
would  make  it  easy  for  me  to  exert  myself  on  your 
behalf  in  furthering  your  opportunities  of  instruction 
and  residence  in  London  —  under  the  care,  that  is, 
of  your  family  —  without  need  for  anxiety  on  your 
part.  If  you  resolve  to  take  art  as  a  bread-study, 
you  need  only  undertake  the  study  at  first;  the 
bread  will  be  found  without  trouble.  The  event  I 
mean  is  my  marriage,  —  in  fact,  —  you  will  receive 
this  as  a  matter  of  confidence,  —  my  marriage  with 
Miss  Arrowpoint,  which  will  more  than  double  such 
right  as  I  have  to  be  trusted  by  you  as  a  friend. 
Your  friendship  will  have  greatly  risen  in  value 
for  her  by  your  having  adopted  that  generous 
labour." 

Gwendolen's  face  had  begun  to  bum.  That  Kles- 
mer was  about  to  marry  Miss  Arrowpoint  caused 
her  no  surprise,  and  at  another  moment  she  would 
have  amused  herself  in  quickly  imagining  the  scenes 
that  must  have  occurred  at  Quetcham.  But  what 
engrossed  her  feeling,  what  filled  her  imagination 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  357 

now,  was  the  panorama  of  her  own  immediate  future 
that  Klesmer's  words  seemed  to  have  unfolded.  The 
suggestion  of  Miss  Arrowpoint  as  a  patroness  was 
only  another  detail  added  to  its  repulsiveness ; 
Klesmer's  proposal  to  help  her  seemed  an  additional 
irritation  after  the  humiliating  judgment  he  had 
passed  on  her  capabilities.  His  words  had  really 
bitten  into  lier  self-confidence,  and  turned  it  into  the 
pain  of  a  bleeding  wound ;  and  the  idea  of  present- 
ing herself  before  other  judges  was  now  poisoned 
with  the  dread  that  they  also  might  be  harsh :  they 
also  would  not  recognize  the  talent  she  was  con- 
scious of.  But  she  controlled  herself,  and  rose  from 
her  seat  before  she  made  any  answer.  It  seemed 
natural  that  she  should  pause.  She  went  to  the 
piano  and  looked  absently  at  leaves  of  music,  pinch- 
ing up  the  corners.  At  last  she  turned  towards 
Klesmer  and  said,  with  almost  her  usual  air  of 
proud  equality,  which  in  this  interview  had  not 
been  hitherto  perceptible, — 

"  I  congratulate  you  sincerely,  Herr  Klesmer.  I 
think  I  never  saw  any  one  more  admirable  than 
Miss  Arrowpoint.  And  I  have  to  thank  you  for 
every  sort  of  kindness  this  morning.  But  I  can't 
decide  now.  If  I  make  the  resolve  you  have  spoken 
of,  I  will  use  your  permission  —  I  will  let  you  know. 
But  I  fear  the  obstacles  are  too  great.  In  any  case, 
I  am  deeply  obliged  to  you.  It  was  very  bold  of 
me  to  ask  you  to  take  this  trouble." 

Klesmer's  inward  remark  was,  "  She  will  never 
let  me  know."  But  with  the  most  thorough  respect 
in  his  manner,  he  said,  "  Command  me  at  any  time. 
There  is  an  address  on  this  card  which  will  always 
find  me  with  little  delay." 

When  he  had  taken  up  his  hat  and  was  going  to 


3S8  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

make  his  bow,  Gwendolen's  better  self,  conscious  of 
an  ingratitude  which  the  clear-seeing  Klesmer  must 
have  penetrated,  made  a  desperate  effort  to  find  its 
way  above  the  stifling  layers  of  egoistic  disappoint- 
ment and  irritation.  Looking  at  him  with  a  glance 
of  the  old  gayety,  she  put  out  her  hand,  and  said 
with  a  smile,  "  If  I  take  the  wrong  road,  it  will  not 
be  because  of  your  flattery." 

"God  forbid  that  you  should  take  any  road  but 
one  where  you  will  find  and  give  happiness  ! "  said 
Klesmer,  fervently.  Then,  in  foreign  fashion,  he 
touched  her  fingers  lightly  with  his  lips,  and  in 
another  minute  she  heard  the  sound  of  his  depart- 
ing wheels  getting  more  distant  on  the  gravel. 

Gwendolen  had  never  in  her  life  felt  so  miserable. 
No  sob  came,  no  passion  of  tears,  to  relieve  her. 
Her  eyes  were  burning ;  and  the  noonday  only 
brought  into  more  dreary  clearness  the  absence  of 
interest  from  her  life.  All  memories,  all  objects, 
the  pieces  of  music  displayed,  the  open  piano  —  the 
very  reflection  of  herself  in  the  glass  —  seemed  no 
better  than  the  packed-up  shows  of  a  departing  fair. 
For  the  first  time  since  her  consciousness  began,  she 
was  having  a  vision  of  herself  on  the  common  level, 
and  had  lost  the  innate  sense  that  there  were  reasons 
why  she  should  not  be  slighted,  elbowed,  jostled,  — 
treated  like  a  passenger  with  a  third-class  ticket,  in 
spite  of  private  objections  on  her  own  part.  She 
did  not  move  about ;  the  prospects  begotten  by  dis- 
appointment were  too  oppressively  preoccupying ; 
she  threw  herself  into  the  shadiest  corner  of  a  set- 
tee, and  pressed  her  fingers  over  her  burning  eyelids. 
Every  word  that  Klesmer  had  said  seemed  to  have 
been  branded  into  her  memory,  as  most  words  are 
which  bring  with  them  a  new  set  of  impressiona 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  359 

and  make  an  epoch  for  us.  Only  a  few  hours 
before,  the  dawning  smile  of  self-contentment  rested 
on  her  lips  as  she  vaguely  imagined  a  future  suited  to 
her  wishes  :  it  seemed  but  the  affair  of  a  year  or  so 
for  her  to  become  the  most  approved  Juliet  of  the 
time ;  or,  if  Klesmer  encouraged  her  idea  of  being  a 
singer,  to  proceed  by  more  gradual  steps  to  her 
place  in  the  opera,  while  she  won  money  and 
applause  by  occasional  performances.  Why  not  ? 
At  home,  at  school,  among  acquaintances,  she  had 
been  used  to  have  her  conscious  superiority  admitted  ; 
and  she  had  moved  in  a  society  where  everything, 
from  low  arithmetic  to  high  art,  is  of  the  amateur 
kind  politely  supposed  to  fall  short  of  perfection 
only  because  gentlemen  and  ladies  are  not  obliged 
to  do  more  than  they  like,  —  otherwise  they  would 
probably  give  forth  abler  writings  and  show  them- 
selves more  commanding  artists  than  any  the 
world  is  at  present  obliged  to  put  up  with.  The 
self-confident  visions  that  had  beguiled  her  were 
not  of  a  highly  exceptional  kind ;  and  she  had  at 
least  shown  some  rationality  in  consulting  the  per- 
son who  knew  the  most  and  had  flattered  her  the 
least.  In  asking  Klesmer's  advice,  however,  she 
had  rather  been  borne  up  by  a  belief  in  his  latent 
admiration  than  bent  on  knowing  anything  more 
unfavourable  that  might  have  lain  behind  his  slight 
objections  to  her  singing;  and  the  truth  she  had 
asked  for  with  an  expectation  that  it  would  be 
agreeable,  had  come  like  a  lacerating  thong. 

"  Too  old  —  should  have  begun  seven  years  ago 
—  you  will  not,  at  best,  achieve  more  than  medi- 
ocrity —  hard,  incessant  work,  uncertain  praise  — 
bread  coming  slowly,  scantily,  perhaps  not  at  all  — 
mortifications,  people  no  longer  feigning  not  to  see 


36o  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

your  blunders  — glaring  insignificance  "  —  all  these 
phrases  rankled  in  her ;  and  even  more  galling  was 
the  hint  that  she  could  only  be  accepted  on  the 
stage  as  ji  beauty  who  hoped  to  get  a  husband. 
The  "  indignities  "  that  she  might  be  visited  with 
had  no  very  definite  form  for  her,  but  the  mere 
association  of  anything  called  "  indignity "  with 
herself  roused  a  resentful  alarm.  And  along  with 
the  vaguer  images  which  were  raised  by  those  bit- 
ing words,  came  the  more  precise  conception  of 
disagreeables  which  her  experience  enabled  her  to 
imagine.  How  could  she  take  her  mamma  and  the 
four  sisters  to  London,  if  it  were  not  possible  for  her 
to  earn  money  at  once  ?  And  as  for  submitting  to 
be  a  protSgee,  and  asking  her  mamma  to  submit  with 
her  to  the  humiliation  of  being  supported  by  Miss 
Arrowpoint,  —  l^hat  was  as  bad  as  being  a  governess ; 
nay,  worse ;  for  suppose  the  end  of  all  her  study  to 
be  as  worthless  as  Klesmer  clearly  expected  it  to 
be,  the  sense  of  favours  received  and  never  repaid, 
would  embitter  the  miseries  of  disappointment. 
Klesmer  doubtless  had  magnificent  ideas  about 
helping  artists  ;  but  how  could  he  know  the  feelings 
of  ladies  in  such  matters  ?  It  was  all  over :  she  had 
entertained  a  mistaken  hope ;  and  there  was  an  end 
of  it. 

"  An  end  of  it !  "  said  Gwendolen,  aloud,  starting 
from  her  seat  as  she  heard  the  steps  and  voices  of 
her  mamma  and  sisters  coming  in  from  church. 
She  hurried  to  the  piano  and  began  gathering 
together  her  pieces  of  music  with  assumed  diligence, 
while  the  expression  on  her  pale  face  and  in  her 
burning  eyes  was  what  would  have  suited  a  woman 
enduring  a  wrong  which  she  might  not  resent,  but 
would  probably  revenge. 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  361 

"Well,  my  darling,"  said  gentle  Mrs.  Davilow, 
entering,  "  I  see  by  the  wheel-marks  that  Klesmer 
has  been  here.  Have  you  been  satisfied  with  the 
interview  ? "  She  had  some  guesses  as  to  its  object, 
but  felt  timid  about  implying  them. 

"  Satisfied,  mamma  ?  oh,  yes,"  said  Gwendolen,  in  a 
high,  hard  tone,  for  which  she  must  be  excused, 
because  she  dreaded  a  scene  of  emotion.  If  she  did 
not  set  herself  resolutely  to  feign  proud  indifference, 
she  felt  that  she  must  fall  into  a  passionate  outburst 
of  despair,  which  would  cut  her  mamma  more  deeply 
than  all  the  rest  of  their  calamities. 

"  Your  uncle  and  aunt  were  disappointed  at  not 
seeing  you,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  coming  near  the 
piano,  and  watching  Gwendolen's  movements.  "  I 
only  said  that  you  wanted  rest." 

"Quite  right,  mamma,"  said  Gwendolen,  in  the 
same  tone,  turning  to  put  away  some  music. 

"  Am  1  not  to  know  anything  now,  Gwendolen  ? 
Am  I  always  to  be  in  the  dark  ? "  said  Mrs.  Davi- 
low, too  keenly  sensitive  to  her  daughter's  manner 
and  expression  not  to  fear  that  something  painful 
had  occurred. 

"  There  is  really  nothing  to  tell  now,  mamma," 
said  Gwendolen,  in  a  still  higher  voice.  "  I  had  a 
mistaken  idea  about  something  I  could  do.  Herr 
Klesmer  has  undeceived  me.     That  is  all." 

"  Don't  look  and  speak  in  that  way,  my  dear 
child  :  I  cannot  bear  it,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  break- 
ing down.     She  felt  an  undefinable  terror. 

Gwendolen  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  silence, 
bitting  her  irner  lip ;  then  she  went  up  to  her,  and 
putting  her  hands  on  her  mamma's  shoulders,  said, 
with  a  drop  of  her  voice  to  the  lowest  undertone, 
"  Mamma,  don't  speak  to  me  now.     It  is  useless  to 


362  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

cry  and  waste  our  strength  over  what  can't  be 
altered.  You  will  live  at  Sawyer's  Cottage,  and  I 
am  going  to  the  bishop's  daughters.  There  is  no 
more  to  be  said.  Things  cannot  be  altered,  and 
who  cares  ?  It  makes  no  difference  to  any  one  else 
what  we  do.  We  must  try  not  to  care  ourselves. 
We  must  not  give  way.  I  dread  giving  way.  Help 
me  to  be  quiet." 

Mrs.  Davilow  was  like  a  frightened  child  under 
her  daughter's  face  and  voice :  her  tears  were 
arrested,  and  she  went  away  in  silence. 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 

I  question  things  and  do  not  find 
One  that  will  answer  to  my  mind  ; 
And  all  the  world  appears  unkind. 

Wordsworth. 

Gwendolen  was  glad  that  she  had  got  through  her 
interview  with  Klesmer  before  meeting  her  uncle 
and  aunt.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  now  that 
there  were  only  disagreeables  before  her,  and  she 
felt  able  to  maintain  a  dogged  calm  in  the  face  of 
any  humiliation  that  might  be  proposed. 

The  meeting  did  not  happen  until  the  Monday, 
when  Gwendolen  went  to  the  Eectory  with  her 
mamma.  They  had  called  at  Sawyer's  Cottage  by 
the  way,  and  had  seen  every  cranny  of  the  narrow 
rooms  in  a  midday  light,  unsoftened  by  blinds  and 
curtains ;  for  the  furnishing  to  be  done  by  gleanings 
from  the  Rectory  had  not  yet  begun. 

"  How  shall  you  endure  it,  mamma  ? "  said  Gwen- 
dolen, as  they  walked  away.  She  had  not  opened 
her  lips  while  they  were  looking  round  at  the  bare 
walls  and  floors,  and  the  little  garden  with  the  cab- 
bage-stalks, and  the  yew  arbour  all  dust  and  cob- 
webs within.  "  You  and  the  four  girls  all  in  that 
closet  of  a  room,  with  the  green  and  yellow  paper 
pressing  on  your  eyes  ?     And  without  me  ? " 

"It  will  be  some  comfort  that  you  have  not  to 
bear  it  too,  dear." 

"  If  it  were  not  that  I  must  get  some  money, 
I  would  rather  be  there  than  go  to  be  a  governess." 


364  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

"  Don't  set  yourself  against  it  beforehand,  Gwen- 
dolen. If  you  go  to  the  palace,  you  will  have  every 
luxury  about  you.  And  you  know  how  much  you 
have  always  cared  for  that.  You  will  not  find  it  so 
hard  as  going  up  and  down  those  steep  narrow  stairs, 
and  hearing  the  crockery  rattle  through  the  house, 
and  the  dear  girls  talking." 

"  It  is  like  a  bad  dream,"  said  Gwendolen,  impetu- 
ously. "  I  cannot  believe  that  my  uncle  will  let 
you  go  to  such  a  place.  He  ought  to  have  taken 
some  other  steps." 

"  Don't  be  unreasonable,  dear  child.  What  could 
he  have  done  ? " 

"That  was  for  him  to  find  out.  It  seems  to  me 
a  very  extraordinary  world  if  people  in  our  posi- 
tion must  sink  in  this  way  all  at  once,"  said  Gwendo- 
len, the  other  worlds  with  which  she  was  conversant 
being  constructed  with  a  sense  of  fitness  that  ar- 
ranged her  own  future  agreeably. 

It  was  her  temper  that  framed  her  sentences  un- 
der this  entirely  new  pressure  of  evils  :  she  could 
have  spoken  more  suitably  on  the  vicissitudes  in 
other  people's  lives,  though  it  was  never  her  aspi- 
ration to  express  herself  virtuously  so  much  as 
cleverly,  —  a  point  to  be  remembered  in  extenuation 
of  her  words,  which  were  usually  worse  than  she 
was. 

And,  notwithstanding  the  keen  sense  of  her  own 
bruises,  she  was  capable  of  some  compunction  when 
her  uncle  and  aunt  received  her  with  a  more  affec- 
tionate kindness  than  they  had  ever  shown  before. 
She  could  not  but  be  struck  by  the  dignified  cheer- 
fulness with  which  they  talked  of  the  necessary 
economies  in  their  way  of  living  and  in  the  educa- 
tion of  the  boys.     Mr.  Gascoigne's  worth  of  char- 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  3^5 

acter,  a  little  obscured  by  worldly  opportunities,  — 
as  the  poetic  beauty  of  women  is  obscured  by  the 
demands  of  fashionable  dressing,  —  showed  itself  to 
great  advantage  under  this  sudden  reduction  of  for- 
tune. Prompt  and  methodical,  he  had  set  himself 
not  only  to  put  down  his  carriage,  but  to  reconsider 
his  worn  suits  of  clothes,  to  leave  off  meat  for  break- 
fast, to  do  without  periodicals,  to  get  Edwy  from 
school  and  arrange  hours  of  study  for  all  the  boys 
under  himself,  and  to  order  the  whole  establishment 
on  the  sparest  footing  possible.  For  all  healthy 
people  economy  lias  its  pleasures ;  and  the  Rector's 
spirit  had  spread  through  the  household.  Mrs.  Gas- 
coigne  and  Anna,  who  always  made  papa  their 
model,  really  did  not  miss  anything  they  cared 
about  for  themselves,  and  in  all  sincerity  felt  that 
the  saddest  part  of  the  family  losses  was  the  change 
for  Mrs.  Davilow  and  her  children. 

Anna  for  the  first  time  could  merge  her  resent- 
ment on  behalf  of  Eex  in  lier  sympathy  with  Gwen- 
dolen ;  and  Mrs.  Gascoigne  was  disposed  to  hope 
that  trouble  would  have  a  salutary  effect  on  her 
niece,  without  thinking  it  her  duty  to  add  any  bit- 
ters by  way  of  increasing  the  salutariness.  They 
had  both  been  busy  devising  how  to  get  blinds  and 
curtains  for  the  cottage  out  of  the  household  stores ; 
but  with  delicate  feeling  they  left  these  matters  in 
the  background,  and  talked  at  first  of  Gwendolen's 
journey,  and  the  comfort  it  was  to  her  mamma  to 
have  her  at  home  again. 

In  fact,  there  was  nothing  for  Gwendolen  to  take 
as  a  justification  for  extending  her  discontent  with 
events  to  the  persons  immediately  around  her,  and 
she  felt  shaken  into  a  more  alert  attention,  as  if  by 
a   call  to  drill   that  everybody  else  was   obeying, 


366  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

when  her  uncle  began  in  a  voice  of  firm  kindness 
to  talk  to  her  of  the  efforts  he  had  been  makiur'  to 
get  her  a  situation  which  would  offer  her  as  many- 
advantages  as  possible.  Mr.  Gascoigne  had  not  for- 
gotten Grandcourt,  but  the  possibility  of  furtlier 
advances  from  that  quarter  was  something  too  vague 
for  a  man  of  his  good  sense  to  be  determined  by  it : 
uncertainties  of  that  kind  must  not  now  slacken  his 
action  in  doing  the  best  he  could  for  his  niece  under 
actual  conditions. 

"  I  felt  that  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  Gwen- 
dolen ;  for  a  position  in  a  good  family  where  you 
will  have  some  consideration  is  not  to  be  had  at  a 
moment's  notice.  And  however  long  we  waited 
we  could  hardly  find  one  where  you  would  be  bet- 
ter off  than  at  Bishop  Mompert's.  I  am  known  to 
both  him  and  Mrs.  Mompert,  and  that  of  course  is 
an  advantage  for  you.  Our  correspondence  has  gone 
on  favourably ;  but  I  cannot  be  surprised  that  Mrs. 
Mompert  wishes  to  see  you  before  making  an  abso- 
lute engagement.  She  thinks  of  arranging  for  you 
to  meet  her  at  Wanchester  when  she  is  on  her  way 
to  town.  I  dare  say  you  will  feel  the  interview 
rather  trying  for  you,  my  dear ;  but  you  will  have 
a  little  time  to  prepare  your  mind." 

"  Do  you  know  why  she  wants  to  see  me,  uncle  ? " 
said  Gwendolen,  whose  mind  had  quickly  gone  over 
various  reasons  that  an  imaginary  Mrs.  Mompert 
with  three  daughters  might  be  supposed  to  enter- 
tain,—  reasons  all  of  a  disagreeable  kind  to  the 
person  presenting  herself  for  inspection. 

The  Rector  smiled.  "  Don't  be  alarmed,  my  dear. 
She  would  like  to  have  a  more  precise  idea  of  you 
than  my  report  can  give.  And  a  mother  is  natur- 
ally scrupulous  about  a  companion  for  her  daugh- 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  3O7 

ters.  I  have  told  lier  you  are  very  young.  But  she 
herself  exercises  a  close  supervision  over  her  daugh- 
ters' education,  and  that  makes  her  less  anxious  as 
to  age.  She  is  a  woman  of  taste  and  also  of  strict 
principle,  and  objects  to  having  a  French  person  in 
the  house.  I  feel  sure  that  she  will  think  your 
manners  and  accomplishments  as  good  as  she  is 
likely  to  find  ;  and  over  the  religious  and  moral 
tone  of  the  education  she,  and  indeed  the  bishop 
himself,  will  preside." 

Gwendolen  dared  not  answer,  but  the  repression 
of  her  decided  dislike  to  the  whole  prospect  sent  an 
unusually  deep  flush  over  her  face  and  neck,  subsid- 
ing as  quickly  as  it  came.  Anna,  full  of  tender 
fears,  put  her  little  hand  into  her  cousin's,  and  Mr. 
Gascoigne  was  too  kind  a  man  not  to  conceive  some- 
thing of  the  trial  which  this  sudden  change  must 
be  for  a  girl  like  Gwendolen.  Bent  on  giving  a 
cheerful  view  of  things,  he  went  on  in  an  easy 
tone  of  remark,  not  as  if  answering  supposed 
objections,  — 

"  I  think  so  highly  of  the  position  that  I  should 
have  been  tempted  to  try  and  get  it  for  Anna,  if  she 
had  been  at  all  likely  to  meet  Mrs.  Mompert's  wants. 
It  is  really  a  home,  with  a  continuance  of  education 
in  the  highest  sense  ;  '  governess '  is  a  misnomer. 
The  bishop's  views  are  of  a  more  decidedly  Low 
Church  colour  than  my  own,  —  he  is  a  close  friend 
of  Lord  Grampian's  ;  but  though  privately  strict,  he 
is  not  by  any  means  narrow  in  public  matters.  In- 
deed, he  has  created  as  little  dislike  in  his  diocese 
as  any  bishop  on  the  bench.  He  has  always  re- 
mained friendly  to  me,  though  before  his  promotion, 
when  he  was  an  incumbent  of  this  diocese,  we  had 
a  little. controversy  about  the  Bible  Society." 


368  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

The  Rector's  words  were  too  pregnant  with  sat- 
isfactory meaning  to  himself  for  him  to  imagine  the 
effect  they  produced  on  the  mind  of  his  niece.  "  Con- 
tinuance of  education,"  —  "  bishop's  views,"  —  "pri- 
vately strict,"  —  "  Bible  Society,"  —  it  was  as  if  he 
had  introduced  a  few  snakes  at  large  for  the  in- 
struction of  ladies  who  regarded  them  as  all  alike 
furnished  with  poison-bags,  and  biting  or  stinging 
according  to  convenience.  To  Gwendolen,  already 
shrinking  from  the  prospect  opened  to  her,  such 
phrases  came  like  the  glowing  heat  of  a  burning- 
glass,  —  not  at  all  as  the  links  of  persuasive  reflec- 
tion which  they  formed  for  the  good  uncle.  She 
began  desperately  to  seek  an  alternative. 

"There  was  another  situation,  I  think,  mamma 
spoke  of  ? "  she  said,  with  determined  self-mastery. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Eector,  in  rather  a  depreciatory 
tone  ;  "  but  that  is  in  a  school.  I  should  not  have 
the  same  satisfaction  in  your  taking  that.  It  would 
be  much  harder  work,  you  are  aware,  and  not  so 
good  in  any  other  respect.  Besides,  you  have  not 
an  equal  chance  of  getting  it." 

"Oh  dear,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Gascoigne,  "it  would  be 
much  harder  for  you,  my  dear,  —  much  less  appro- 
priate. You  might  not  have  a  bedroom  to  yourself." 
And  Gwendolen's  memories  of  school  suggested 
other  particulars  which  forced  her  to  admit  to  her- 
self that  this  alternative  would  be  no  relief.  She 
turned  to  her  uncle  again  and  said,  apparently  in 
acceptance  of  his  ideas, — 

"  Wlien  is  Mrs.  Mompert  likely  to  send  for  me  ? " 

"  That  is  rather  uncertain,  but  she  has  promised 
not  to  entertain  any  other  proposal  till  she  has  seen 
you.  She  has  entered  with  much  feeling  into  your 
position.      It   will   be   within   the  next  fortnight, 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  *    369 

probably.  But  I  must  be  off  now.  I  am  going  to 
let  part  of  my  glebe  uncommonly  well." 

The  Eector  ended  very  cheerfully,  leaving  the 
room  with  the  satisfactory  conviction  that  Gwendo- 
len was  going  to  adapt  herself  to  circumstances  like 
a  girl  of  good  sense.  Having  spoken  appropriately, 
he  naturally  supposed  that  the  effects  would  be 
appropriate ;  being  accustomed  as  a  household  and 
parish  authority  to  be  asked  to  "  speak  to "  refrac- 
tory persons,  with  the  understanding  that  the 
measure  was  morally  coercive. 

"  What  a  stay  Henry  is  to  us  all ! "  said  Mrs. 
Gascoigne,  when  her  husband  had  left  the  room. 

"  He  is,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  cordially.  "  I 
think  cheerfulness  is  a  fortune  in  itself.  I  wish  I 
had  it." 

"  And  Eex  is  just  like  him,"  said  Mrs.  Gascoigne. 
"  I  must  tell  you  the  comfort  we  have  had  in  a 
letter  from  him.  I  must  read  you  a  little  bit,"  she 
added,  taking  the  letter  from  her  pocket,  while  Anna 
looked  rather  frightened,  —  she  did  not  know  why, 
except  that  it  had  been  a  rule  with  her  not  to 
mention  Eex  before  Gwendolen. 

The  proud  mother  ran  her  eyes  over  the  letter, 
seeking  for  sentences  to  read  aloud.  But  apparently 
she  had  found  it  sown  with  what  might  seem 
to  be  closer  allusions  than  she  desired  to  the  recent 
past,  for  she  looked  up,  folding  the  letter,  and 
saying,  — 

"  However,  he  tells  us  that  our  trouble  has  made 
a  man  of  him ;  he  sees  a  reason  for  any  amount  of 
work :  he  means  to  get  a  fellowship,  to  take  pupils, 
to  set  one  of  his  brothers  going,  to  be  everything 
that  is  most  remarkable.  The  letter  is  full  of  fun 
—  just  like  him.  He  says,  '  Tell  mother  she  has 
VOL.  I.  —  24 


370  DANIEL  DEROJ^DA. 

put  out  an  advertisement  for  a  jolly  good  hard- 
working sou,  in  time  to  hinder  me  from  taking  ship; 
and  I  offer  myself  for  the  place.'  The  letter  came 
on  Friday.  I  never  saw  my  husband  so  much 
moved  by  anything  since  Rex  was  born.  It 
seemed  a  gain  to  balance  our  loss." 

This  letter,  in  fact,  was  what  had  helped  both 
Mrs.  Gascoigne  and  Anna  to  show  Gwendolen  an 
unmixed  kindliness ;  and  she  herself  felt  very  ami- 
ably about  it,  smiling  at  Anna  and  pinching  her 
chin  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Nothing  is  wrong  with 
you  now,  is  it?"  She  had  no  gratuitously  ill- 
natured  feeling  or  egoistic  pleasure  in  making  men 
miserable.  She  only  had  an  intense  objection  to 
their  making  her  miserable. 

But  when  the  talk  turned  on  furniture  for  the 
cottage,  Gwendolen  was  not  roused  to  show  even  a 
languid  interest.  She  thought  tliat  she  had  done 
as  much  as  could  be  expected  of  her  .this  morning, 
and  indeed  felt  at  an  heroic  pitch  in  keeping  to 
herself  the  struggle  that  was  going  on  within  her. 
The  recoil  of  her  mind  from  the  only  definite 
prospect  allowed  her,  was  stronger  than  even  she 
had  imagined  beforehand.  The  idea  of  presenting 
herself  before  Mrs.  Mompert  in  the  first  instance, 
to  be  approved  or  disapproved,  came  as  pressure 
on  an  already  painful  bruise :  even  as  a  governess,  it 
appeared  she  was  to  be  tested  and  was  liable  to 
rejection.  After  she  had  done  herself  the  violence 
to  accept  the  bishop  and  his  wife,  they  were  still 
to  consider  whether  they  would  accept  her ;  it  was 
at  her  peril  that  she  was  to  look,  speak,  or  be  silent. 
And  even  when  she  had  entered  on  her  dismal  task 
of  self-constraint  in  the  society  of  three  girls  whom 
e.hjJ  yfAS  bound  incessantly  to  edify,  the  same  process 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  371 

of  inspection  was  to  go  on  :  there  was  always  to  be 
Mrs.  Mompert's  supervision ;  always  something  or 
other  would  be  expected  of  her  to  which  she  had 
not  the  slightest  inclination ;  and  perhaps  the 
bishop  would  examine  her  on  serious  topics.  Gwen- 
dolen, lately  used  to  the  social  successes  of  a  hand- 
some girl,  whose  lively  venturesomeness  of  talk  has 
the  effect  of  wit,  and  who  six  weeks  before  would 
have  pitied  the  dulness  of  the  bishop  rather  than 
have  been  embarrassed  by  him,  saw  the  life  before 
her  as  an  entrance  into  a  penitentiary.  Wild 
thoughts  of  running  away  to  be  an  actress,  in  spite 
of  Klesmer,  came  to  her  with  the  lure  of  freedom ; 
but  his  words  still  hung  heavily  on  her  soul ;  they 
had  alarmed  her  pride  and  even  her  maidenly  dig- 
nity :  dimly  she  conceived  herself  getting  amongst 
vulgar  people  who  would  treat  her  with  rude  famil- 
iarity, —  odious  men,  whose  grins  and  smirks  would 
not  be  seen  through  the  strong  grating  of  polite 
society.  Gwendolen's  daring  was  not  in  the  least 
that  of  the  adventuress ;  the  demand  to  be  held  a  lady 
was  in  her  very  marrow ;  and  when  she  had  dreamed 
that  she  might  be  the  heroine  of  the  gaming-table, 
it  was  with  the  understanding  that  no  one  should 
treat  her  with  the  less  consideration,  or  presume  to 
look  at  her  with  irony  as  Deronda  had  done.  To 
be  protected  and  petted,  and  to  have  her  suscepti- 
bilities consulted  in  every  detail,  had  gone  along 
with  her  food  and  clothing  as  matters  of  course  in 
her  life :  even  without  any  such  warning  as  Kles- 
mer's,  she  could  not  have  thought  it  an  attractive 
freedom  to  be  thrown  in  solitary  dependence  on  the 
doubtful  civility  of  strangers.  The  endurance  of 
the  episcopal  penitentiary  was  less  repulsive  than 
that;  though  here,  too,  she  would  certainly  never 


372  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

be  petted  or  have  her  susceptibilities  consulted 
Her  rebellion  against  this  hard  necessity  which  had 
come  just  to  her  of  all  people  in  the  world  — 
to  her  whom  all  circumstances  had  concurred  in 
preparing  for  something  quite  different  —  was 
exaggeiated  instead  of  diminished  as  one  hour 
followed  another,  filled  with  the  imagination  of 
what  she  might  have  expected  in  her  lot  and 
what  it  was  actually  to  be.  The  family  troubles, 
she  thought,  were  easier  for  every  one  than  for 
her,  —  even  for  poor  dear  mamma,  because  she  had 
always  used  herself  to  not  enjoying.  As  to  hoping 
that  if  she  went  to  the  Momperts'  and  was  patient 
a  little  while,  things  might  get  better,  —  it  would 
be  stupid  to  entertain  hopes  for  herself  after  all  that 
had  happened :  her  talents,  it  appeared,  would  never 
be  recognized  as  anything  remarkable,  and  there 
was  not  a  single  direction  in  which  probability 
seemed  to  flatter  her  wishes.  Some  beautiful  girls, 
who,  like  her,  had  read  romances  where  even  plain 
governesses  are  centres  of  attraction  and  are  sought 
in  marriage,  might  have  solaced  themselves  a  little 
by  transporting  such  pictures  into  their  own  future ; 
but  even  if  Gwendolen's  experience  had  led  her  to 
dwell  on  love-making  and  marriage  as  her  elysium, 
her  heart  was  too  much  oppressed  by  what  was 
near  to  her,  in  both  the  past  and  the  future,  for 
her  to  project  her  anticipations  very  far  off.  She 
had  a  world-nausea  upon  her,  and  saw  no  reason  all 
through  her  life  why  she  should  wish  to  live.  No 
religious  view  of  trouble  helped  her :  her  troubles 
had  in  her  opinion  all  been  caused  by  other  people's 
disagreeable  or  wicked  conduct;  and  there  was 
really  nothing  pleasant  to  be  counted  on  in  the 
world:  that  was  her  feeling;  everything  else  she 


MAIDENS  CnOOSlNQ.  373 

had  heard  said  about  trouble  was  mere  phrase- 
making  not  attractive  enough  for  her  to  have  caught 
it  up  and  repeated  it.  As  to  the  sweetness  of  labour 
and  fulfilled  claims ;  the  interest  of  inward  and 
outward  activity ;  the  impersonal  delights  of  life  as 
a  perpetual  discovery ;  the  dues  of  courage,  fortitude, 
industry,  which  it  is  mere  baseness  not  to  pay 
towards  the  common  burthen ;  the  supreme  worth 
of  the  teacher's  vocation,  —  these,  even  if  they  had 
been  eloquently  preached  to  her,  could  have  been 
no  more  than  faintly  apprehended  doctrines :  the 
fact  which  wrought  upon  her  was  her  invariable 
observation  that  for  a  lady  to  become  a  governess 
—  to  "  take  a  situation  "  —  was  to  descend  in  life 
and  to  be  treated  at  best  with  a  compassionate 
patronage.  And  poor  Gwendolen  had  never  dis- 
sociated happiness  from  personal  pre-eminence  and 
Sclat.  That  where  these  threatened  to  forsake  her, 
she  should  take  life  to  be  hardly  worth  the  having, 
cannot  make  her  so  unlike  the  rest  of  us,  men  or 
women,  that  we  should  cast  her  out  of  our  com- 
passion; our  moments  of  temptation  to  a  mean 
opinion  of  things  in  general  being  usually  depend- 
ent on  some  susceptibility  about  ourselves  and 
some  dulness  to  subjects  which  every  one  else 
would  consider  more  important.  Surely  a  young 
creature  is  pitiable  who  has  the  labyrinth  of  life 
before  her  and  no  clew — to  whom  distrust  in  her- 
self and  her  good  fortune  has  come  as  a  sudden 
shock,  like  a  rent  across  the  path  that  she  was 
treading  carelessly. 

In  spite  of  her  healthy  frame,  her  irreconcilable 
repugnance  affected  her  even  physically :  she  felt  a 
sort  of  numbness  and  could  set  about  nothing ;  the 
least  urgency,  even  that  she  should  take  her  meals, 


374  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

was  an  irritation  to  her;  the  speech  of  others  on 
any  subject  seemed  unreasonable,  because  it  did 
not  include  her  feeling  and  was  an  ignorant  claim, 
on  her.  It  was  not  in  her  nature  to  busy  herself 
with  the  fancies  of  suicide  to  which  disappointed 
young  people  are  prone ;  what  occupied  and  exas- 
perated her  was  the  sense  that  there  was  nothing 
for  her  but  to  live  in  a  way  she  hated.  She  avoided 
going  to  the  Rectory  again :  it  was  too  intolerable  to 
have  to  look  and  talk'as  if  she  were  compliant ;  and 
she  could  not  exert  herself  to  show  interest  about  the 
furniture  of  that  horrible  cottage.  Miss  Merry  was 
staying  on  purpose  to  help,  and  such  people  as  Jocosa 
liked  that  sort  of  thing.  Her  mother  had  to  make 
excuses  for  her  not  appearing  even  when  Anna  came 
to  see  her.  For  that  calm  which  Gwendolen  had 
promised  herself  to  maintain  had  changed  into  sick 
motivelessness :  she  thought,  "  I  suppose  I  shall 
begin  to  pretend  by  and  by,  but  why  should  I  do 
it  now  ? " 

Her  mother  watched  her  with  silent  distress ; 
and,  lapsing  into  the  habit  of  indulgent  tenderness, 
she  began  to  think  what  she  imagined  that  Gwen- 
dolen was  thinking,  and  to  wish  that  everything 
should  give  way  to  the  possibility  of  making  her 
darling  less  miserable. 

One  day  when  she  was  in  the  black  and  yellow 
bedroom  and  her  mother  was  lingering  there  under 
the  pretext  of  considering  and  arranging  Gwen- 
dolen's articles  of  dress,  she  suddenly  roused 
herself  to  fetch  the  casket  which  contained  her 
ornaments. 

"  Mamma,"  she  began,  glancing  over  the  upper 
layer,  "  I  had  forgotten  these  things.  Why  did  n't 
you  remind  me  of  them?     Do  see  about  getting 


MAIDENS  CHOOSINa  375 

them  sold.  You  will  not  mind  about  parting  with 
them.     You  gave  them  all  to  me  long  ago." 

She  lifted  the  upper  tray  and  looked  below. 

"  If  we  can  do  without  them,  darling,  I  would 
rather  keep  them  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  seat- 
ing herself  beside  Gwendolen  with  a  feeling  of 
relief  that  she  was  beginning  to  talk  about  some- 
thing. The  usual  relation  between  them  had 
become  reversed.  It  was  now  the  mother  who 
tried  to  cheer  the  daughter.  "  Why,  how  came  you 
to  put  that  pocket-handkerchief  in  here  ? " 

It  was  the  handkerchief  with  the  corner  torn  off 
which  Gwendolen  had  thrust  in  with  the  turquoise 
necklace. 

"  It  happened  to  be  with  the  necklace  —  I  was 
in  a  hurry,"  said  Gwendolen,  taking  the  handker- 
chief away  and  putting  it  in  her  pocket.  "  Don't 
sell  the  necklace,  mamma,"  she  added,  a  new  feel- 
ing having  come  over  her  about  that  rescue  of  it 
which  had  formerly  been  so  offensive. 

"  No,  dear,  no ;  it  was  made  out  of  your  dear 
father's  chain.  And  I  should  prefer  not  selling  the 
other  things.  None  of  them  are  of  any  great 
value.  All  my  best  ornaments  were  taken  from 
me  long  ago." 

Mrs.  Davilow  coloured.  She  usually  avoided 
any  reference  to  such  facts  about  Gwendolen's  step- 
father as  that  he  had  carried  off  his  wife's  jewellery 
and  disposed  of  it.  After  a  moment's  pause  she 
went  on,  — 

"  And  these  things  have  not  been  reckoned  on 
for  any  expenses.     Carry  them  with  you " 

"That  would  be  quite  useless,  mamma,"  said 
Gwendolen,  coldly.  "  Governesses  don't  wear  orna- 
ments.    You  had  better  get  me  a  gray  frieze  livery 


376  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

and  a  straw  poke,  such  as  my  auut's  charity  chil- 
dren wear." 

"  No,  dear,  no ;  don't  take  that  view  of  it.  I  feel 
sure  the  Momperts  will  like  you  the  better  for  being 
graceful  and  elegant." 

"I  am  not  at  all  sure  what  the  Momperts  will 
like  me  to  be.  It  is  enough  that  I  am  expected  to 
be  what  they  like,"  said  Gwendolen,  bitterly. 

"  If  there  is  anything  you  would  object  to  less  — 
anything  that  could  be  done  —  instead  of  your 
going  to  the  bishop's,  do  say  so,  Gwendolen.  Tell 
me  what  is  in  your  heart.  I  will  try  for  anything 
you  wish,"  said  the  mother,  beseechingly.  "  Don't 
keep  things  away  from  me.  Let  us  bear  them 
together." 

"Oh,  mamma,  there  is  nothing  to  tell.  I  can't 
do  any  tiling  better.  I  must  think  myself  fortunate 
if  they  will  have  me.  I  shall  get  some  money  for 
you.  That  is  the  only  thing  I  have  to  think  of. 
I  shall  not  spend  any  money  this  year:  you  will 
have  all  the  eighty  pounds.  I  don't  know  how  far 
that  will  go  in  housekeeping;  but  you  need  not 
stitch  your  poor  fingers  to  the  bone,  and  stare  away 
all  the  sight  that  the  tears  have  left  in  your  dear 
eyes." 

Gwendolen  did  not  give  any  caresses  with  her 
words  as  she  had  been  used  to  do.  She  did  not 
even  look  at  her  mother,  but  was  looking  at  the 
turquoise  necklace  as  she  turned  it  over  her  fingers. 

"Bless  you  for  your  tenderness,  my  good  dar- 
ling ! "  said  Mrs.  Davilow,  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 
"  Don't  despair  because  there  are  clouds  now.  You 
are  so  young.  There  may  be  great  happiness  in 
store  for  you  yet." 

•'  I  don't  see  any  reason  for  expecting  it,  mam- 


MAIDENS  CHOOSING.  2,-^ 

ma,"  said  Gwendolen,  in  a  hard  tone ;  and  Mrs. 
Davilow  was  silent,  thinking  as  she  had  often 
thought  before,  "  What  did  happen  between  her. 
and  Mr.  Grandcourt  ?  " 

"  I  will  keep  this  necklace,  mamma,"  said  Gwen- 
dolen, laying  it  apart  and  then  closing  the  casket. 
"  But  do  get  the  other  things  sold,  even  if  they  will 
not  bring  much.  Ask  my  uncle  what  to  do  with 
them.  I  shall  certainly  not  use  them  again.  I  am 
going  to  take  the  veil.  I  wonder  if  all  the  poor 
wretches  who  have  ever  taken  it  felt  as  I  do." 

"  Don't  exaggerate  evils,  dear." 

"How  can  any  one  know  that  I  exaggerate, 
when  I  am  speaking  of  my  own  feeling  ?  I  did  not 
say  what  any  one  else  felt." 

She  took  out  the  torn  handkerchief  from  her 
pocket  again,  and  wrapt  it  deliberately  round  the 
necklace.  Mrs.  Davilow  observed  the  action  with 
some  surprise,  but  the  tone  of  the  last  words  dis- 
couraged her  from  asking  any  question. 

The  "  feeling "  Gwendolen  spoke  of  with  an  air 
of  tragedy  was  not  to  be  explained  by  the  mere 
fact  that  she  was  going  to  be  a  governess :  she  was 
possessed  by  a  spirit  of  general  disappointment. 
It  was  not  simply  that  she  had  a  distaste  for  what 
she  was  called  on  to  do :  the  distaste  spread  itself 
over  the  world  outside  her  penitentiary,  since  she 
saw  nothing  very  pleasant  in  it  that  seemed  attain- 
able by  her  even  if  she  were  free.  Naturally  her 
grievances  did  not  seem  to  her  smaller  than  some 
of  her  male  contemporaries  held  theirs  to  be  when 
they  felt  a  profession  too  narrow  for  their  powers, 
and  had  an  h,  'priori  conviction  that  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  put  forth  their  latent  abilities. 
Because   her  education   had  been    less   expensive 


378  DANIEL  DERONDA. 

than  theirs,  it  did  not  follow  that  she  should  have 
wider  emotions  or  a  keener  intellectual  vision. 
Her  griefs  were  feminine ;  but  to  her  as  a  woman 
they  were  not  the  less  hard  to  bear,  and  she  felt  an 
equal  right  to  the  Promethean  tone. 

But  the  movement  of  mind  which  led  her  to 
keep  the  necklace,  to  fold  it  up  in  a  handkerchief, 
and  rise  to  put  it  in  her  necessaire,  where  she  had 
first  placed  it  when  it  had  been  returned  to  her, 
was  more  peculiar,  and  what  would  be  called  less 
reasonable.  It  came  from  that  streak  of  supersti- 
tion in  her  which  attached  itself  both  to  her  confi- 
dence and  her  terror,  —  a  superstition  which  lingers 
in  an  intense  personality  even  in  spite  of  theory 
and  science;  any  dread  or  hope  for  self  being 
stronger  than  all  reasons  for  or  against  it.  Why 
she  should  suddenly  determine  not  to  part  with  the 
necklace  was  not  much  clearer  to  her  than,  why 
she  should  sometimes  have  been  frightened  to  find 
herself  in  the  fields  alone  :  she  had  a  confused  state 
of  emotion  about  Deronda,  —  was  it  wounded  pride 
and  resentment,  or  a  certain  awe  and  exceptional 
trust  ?  It  was  something  vague  and  yet  mastering, 
which  impelled  her  to  this  action  about  the  neck- 
lace. There  is  a  great  deal  of  unmapped  country 
within  us  which  would  have  to  be  taken  into 
account  in  an  explanation  of  our  gusts  and  storms. 


END   OF  VOL.   T. 


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